Amoris Vinculum
by Heiress7Muzzy
Summary: Harry and Draco get together against all odds, but the coming war is destined to tear them apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Amoris Vinculum

**Disclaimer: **This story is based entirely on the story J.K. Rowling has written. She owns all of the characters, ideas, credit and copyright. This story is made simply for enjoyment and no money is being made from this. No offence intended. No copyright infringement intended.

**Warnings: **Slash, angst

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Summary:** Harry and Draco get together against all odds, but the coming war is destined to tear them apart.

**Author's Note: **I am very new to writing fanfiction, and constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome. I have quite a few stories I'm working on, most of them Drarry-related. If you're a Drarry shipper, take the time to check out some of my other works and tell me what you think.

**PROLOGUE**

HARRY

The tension between him and Malfoy seemed to have abated over the Easter vacation, Harry thought. They were certainly not hexing each other whenever they passed in the corridors, nor were they throwing insults at one another every few minutes. The two of them seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to fight anymore.

Harry really wasn't sure what he should feel. Excitement that they were no longer rivals? Despair that it meant the two of them might never speak to each other again? For in the four years that they had been enemies, Harry had started liking Malfoy. No, not friendly-I-wanna-be-pals-with-you like. It was more man-you're-hot-I-wanna-kiss-you-now kind of like. The problem was, he wasn't really sure Malfoy felt that way about him. Sure, Malfoy hadn't hexed him or sworn revenge when Harry knocked him off his broom last week (It had been an accident). Nor had he reacted to Ron's snide comment during lunch the other day (Ron didn't know about Harry's crush on him).

Most of all, Harry was worried about what other people might think if word got out that the famous Harry Potter was gay. His fan club would be disappointed alright. Ginny would be disappointed, too. Harry hated the idea of hurting her, he thought of her as his sister, after all. And one does not normally start an affair with his own sister. Harry wondered how he should break the news to Ginny. They weren't exactly dating, and they hadn't even kissed yet, though Ginny was hinting heavily that she wanted to.

Harry didn't really like the idea of walking up to her and saying, "Hey what's up, Ginny? I'm gay, so I can't kiss you." Harry also wondered how and when he should ask Malfoy whether he liked Harry or not. Of course, he still had to find out if Malfoy was gay. The only comfort Harry had was knowing that Malfoy had broken up with Pansy a week ago. If Harry didn't make a move soon, someone else was sure to get him. Someone as hot as Malfoy didn't stay single for long.

Harry was snapped back into reality as Ron kicked him hard beneath the table. They were in Potions class, and the whole class was staring at them. Snape was standing over them, an unpleasant smile on his ugly face.

"Well, well, well…" Snape said softly but menacingly. "Mr Potter, I see you weren't listening to what I was saying as usual. I asked you, whether or not you respected me enough to pay attention in class."

Harry knew he was expected to say yes, but his mouth would not obey him. "No," he heard himself say, "I don't respect you enough, Professor." The entire class gasped. Harry saw Seamus and Dean both giving him a thumbs-up. But as soon as Harry had said the words, he knew he was in trouble.

Snape looked livid. His eyes were flashing malevolently, "If that's the way it is, Potter, then I won't respect you either." Snape leered at Harry, showing yellow teeth. "I notice you're always sitting with Weaseley and Miss Granger, why don't you sit elsewhere from now on? How about that spot over there by Mr Malfoy?" Snape gestured toward an empty seat on the far side of the dungeon.

Harry pretended to glower at Snape, knowing full well Snape thought he and Malfoy hated each other, and was no doubt set on tormenting Harry for talking back. But he was secretly pleased to have an excuse to sit next to Malfoy.

Harry packed his bag and switched seats, the entire class watching him. As he was setting up his cauldron, Malfoy hissed, "Potter! Can I borrow your eel's eyes? I'm all out."

"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged, trying to sound and act nonchalant as he grabbed a handful of eel's eyes and passed them to Malfoy. Their hands touched briefly, Harry felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm, and he drew back his hand quickly.

Harry pretended to chop up his newt tail, giving him an excuse to avert his eyes from Malfoy. As it was, he kept glancing sideways at Malfoy, at his pale blonde hair gleaming in the darkness of the dungeon, at his perfect face, at his slim and slender build. Malfoy happened to glace up at that moment, "What, Potter?"

Harry hesitated, his mind going through a million excuses before he settled on the lamest one. "Can I borrow you knife?"

Malfoy handed it to him with the hilt towards Harry, which further encouraged Harry to the fact that Malfoy no longer hated him. It wasn't much, but considering that they had been enemies for the better part of four years, it was a start.

The rest of Potions passed by relatively quickly, due to the fact that Harry was sitting next to Malfoy. In no time at all, it seemed, it was time for lunch. As Harry passed Snape on the way out of the dungeon, he purposefully glared daggers at him, as if he hated the idea of sitting with Malfoy. Snape's lip curled upward in a satisfied smirk.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing Snape, he would make Harry sit with Malfoy for the rest of the year, hoping to make Harry's life miserable. Harry was actually sad to leave the dungeon for the first time. He wondered when he'd get to see Malfoy again.

When Harry joined Ron and Hermione for lunch in the Great Hall, he was in high spirits. They noticed this but didn't comment. "What have we got this afternoon?" Harry asked, ladling beef casserole onto his plate.

"Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off her book, _Why Muggles Need Electricity_.

Harry felt his heart lift. At least he would be able to see Malfoy again.

The trio headed down to Hagrid's hut, where the Slytherins were congregated. "Hurry up, yeh lot!" Hagrid said, looking impatient. "We gotta lot o' work ter do! We're gonna milk venom from the Skrewts today!" Hagrid announced happily, like it was a real treat.

The class exchanged worried looks. It had been bad enough to take the Skrewts for a walk. Now they had to milk the venom from their poisonous suckers and stings, too. The class shuffled forward reluctantly, and in groups of three, proceeded to milk the Skrewts' venom.

Harry, Ron and Hermion were working on one of the larger Skrewts. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were working on another nearby. After a quarter of an hour, Harry, Ron and Hermion had gotten a pint of Skrewt venom. Next to them, Malfoy and his cronies were having trouble with their Skrewt.

It was advancing on them, its pincers raised menacingly. Crabbe and Goyle quickly scrambled out of the way, knocking Malfoy down in the process. Malfoy tried backing away, but the Skrewt was bearing down on him with its sting arched, ready to pounce. Harry reacted instinctively; just a second before the Skrewt pounced, he flung himself at Malfoy, knocking him out of harm's way.

Unfortunately, they were at the top of a slope, and Harry's momentum carried them over the edge. They went tumbling and rolling down the slope, one on top of the other, gaining speed all the time. Both of them were yelling and clinging to each other as they barreled down the steep slope. By the time they rolled to a stop, both of them were badly scratched and bruised, each of them having broken at least a few bones. They came to stop at the foot of a maple tree, Harry sprawled on top of Malfoy.

Harry looked down into Malfoy's slate blue eyes, both piercing and enchanting at the same time, and was momentarily captivated as his pain faded away. And their lips, so close they were almost touching. Oh, how Harry would like to feel what those soft lips felt like pressed against his own. Then those pale blue sapphires narrowed and stared spitefully up at him. Harry remembered where he was and what was happening. He got off Malfoy, wincing at the sharp pain in his arm and ankle, and stood.

Malfoy got to his feet, wincing as he did so; he was a mess. His robes were ripped and torn, his face and arms were covered all over with scratches from their trip down the slope, and his pale blonde hair that was always slicked back now stuck up at odd angles. Somehow, that only made Malfoy hotter than ever, from Harry's point of view. Malfoy was still glowering at him, and Harry instinctively backed away, raising his hands in defense. "Look, Malfoy, I'm sorry, okay?" he said.

Malfoy continued the death glare until Harry felt his eyes water from the strain of trying not to blink. Out-staring Malfoy was harder than getting a dozen Hippogriffs to bow to him. When Harry was on the verge of giving in and risking a blink, Malfoy shocked him by muttering resentfully, "Thanks, Potter."

Harry was dumbfounded. He wanted to ask, "For what? Trying to save you from being squashed by a Skrewt, and ending up sending you rolling down a slope at thirty miles an hour?" But he kept his mouth shut and merely nodded in acknowledgement.

By the time they'd hobbled back up to Hagrid's hut, it was the end of the lesson. The whole class had been needed in capturing and subduing the Skrewt that had tried to attack Malfoy. The entire class applauded when Harry and Malfoy turned up, and everyone patted Harry on the back and congratulated him on being alive.

Ron and Hermione rushed over, a look of concern on their faces. "Harry!" Hermione squealed, her bushy brown hair engulfing him as she hugged him, "Are you alright?" she pulled back and studied him, assessing the damage.

"Hey mate, glad to see you decided to rejoin the living," Ron said, grinning at Harry. "I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with Hermione!" said Ron jokingly, and then ducked as Hermione swung her book bag at him, narrowly missing him.

"Harry! Good ter see yeh alive!" Hagrid exclaimed, clapping Harry on the back so hard his knees buckled and he would have collapsed on the floor had Malfoy not grabbed him by the back of his robes.

"Th-thanks," Harry mumbled, feeling his cheeks reddening.

"Off ter the hospital wing, then, you two," Hagrid told them, and grabbing them by the scruffs of their necks, hauled them up to the castle and hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey seemed exasperated to see the two of them. "Potter! What did you and Malfoy do this time? Jump off a cliff?" she cried, wringing her hands in frustration.

"Um, yeah, something like that," Harry and Malfoy said in unison. They looked at each other, surprised, and then just as quickly looked away.

"You'll have to stay the night, the both of you," Madam Pomfrey said briskly, pulling back the curtains to reveal two unoccupied beds. "Get behind those and get dressed," she said, indicating the curtains, "The pajamas are on the beds."

Harry and Malfoy limped over to the curtains and undressed. As Malfoy slipped off his robes, Harry couldn't help admiring the smooth planes of his lean, muscular back, bruised and scratched as it was. Harry mentally shook himself, tried hard not to look at Malfoy's bare back, and changed into the pajamas laid out for him.

"Ah, excellent," Madam Pomfrey bustled over as soon as they were done, "Potter, sit down, I said SIT! Now, let's see…You broke two ribs, an arm and you've got a sprained ankle. You should be fine after one night." She waved her wand, and immediately Harry felt better.

Madam Pomfrey moved on to Malfoy next. "Malfoy, you've got three broken ribs, a few broken fingers, and about two dozen cuts and scratches." She twirled her wand once more, and healed Malfoy.

"Now the two of you will stay here for the night and rest, and in the morning you may leave," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling back into her office.

Harry was about to sleep when he heard Malfoy say softly, "Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for saving me from the Skrewt."

"My pleasure."

"Night."

"Night."

Harry glanced over at Malfoy's bed and could have sworn he saw Malfoy turn away, as if he'd been staring at Harry moments before. Harry thought about their conversation and decided it was the nicest one the two of them had ever shared. Harry lay back and closed his eyes.

As he did, he committed the entire conversation to memory, so he would never forget about the day he'd saved Malfoy from a Skrewt and sent them both down a slope to their possible deaths.

Harry went to sleep that night with a huge grin on his face. If he was right, things really were working out with him and Malfoy. At least they were on speaking terms now, not insulting terms.

Harry wondered when he'd have the guts to do something about his crush on Malfoy…Then they would finally be together, and live happily ever after.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

TWO YEARS LATER…

HARRY

Harry was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy. After months of just gazing avidly at him from afar, Harry simply couldn't take it any longer. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

That night, Harry donned his Invisibility Cloak, slipped out of Gryffindor tower and crept over to the Slytherin dorms. He had expected Malfoy to be in bed, but his bed was empty. As Harry stood there, staring at the empty four-poster bed, a voice spoke from the darkness.

"Looking for me, Potter?" Harry whirled around. Malfoy was standing just a foot behind him, half-concealed by the shadows and looking absolutely perfect, like an angelic demon or a demonic angel, he really wasn't sure which.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked warily, taking off the Cloak. "I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."

"It would take more than an Invisibility Cloak to mask your presence, Potter." Malfoy sneered half-heartedly.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"Your cologne, Potter, your cologne," Malfoy snickered, eyes flashing tauntingly. "I could smell it all the way from the common room. That's why I sneaked up on you, to give you a little surprise."

"You know what cologne I wear?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, two pink shades appearing on his pale cheeks, while his sneer dropped a little, "So?"

"Only girls who like me do stuff like that, you know, run after me to get a whiff of my cologne, or sneak up behind me and pluck some of my hair out," Harry said, gesturing to a lock of his hair clenched in Malfoy's fist.

"I only know what cologne you wear because you crashed into me during our last Quidditch match, and it stank so much I remembered it. And this isn't your hair, Potter," Malfoy smirked, "It's Pansy's."

"Oh," was the only reply Harry could formulate. His insides felt like lead, and the world had suddenly become a darker, crueler place. But even though he was drowning in sorrow and misery on the inside, he put on a cool front and pretended he didn't care.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, "Were you envisioning that I had some sort of crush on you?"

"No! Of course not," Harry protested, "Maybe it's you doing the daydreaming, Malfoy." He couldn't let it show on his face, he couldn't let Malfoy see how much that sentence had hurt him, so much so that he felt as if he were bring crushed from the inside out.

"So, what did you come here for, Potter?" Malfoy said, pacing the area around his bed, "Don't tell me you sneaked into the Slytherin dorm just to gloat about you winning that last Quidditch match."

"Yeah, I did," Harry said, with as much attitude as he could muster, "That's exactly why I came over, Malfoy, to rub it in your face." He said this so half-heartedly even Malfoy seemed to know something was wrong.

His eyes narrowed. "That's not why you came over, is it, Potter?" He asked, his lip curling. Harry's heart skipped a beat, Malfoy had incredibly soft lips, he noticed.

Harry wondered what it would feel like to have those lips pressed against his own, to run his hands through Malfoy's pale blonde hair, to stroke those perfect, porcelain cheeks…

"Potter! POTTER!" Harry was jerked back to reality. Malfoy was snapping his fingers under Harry's nose. "What's wrong with you, Potter?" He demanded, "You zoned out for five minutes! And you were drooling!"

"I...er, I was just…you know…" Harry stammered, his brain refusing to think of a believable excuse. "…daydreaming," He finished lamely.

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy said, "The famous Harry Potter daydreams, huh? Bet you were dreaming of that scum Ginny Weasley, weren't you?"

Harry still felt numb from hearing that Malfoy didn't feel the same way about himself, and was slow on the uptake. "Wha-what?" He managed, straining to remember what the question was. "Yeah, whatever." He replied, still not knowing what the question was.

DRACO

Draco felt like he had just swallowed a particularly nasty bottle of Skele-Gro. He was desperately trying to cling to consciousness, but his vision was swimming, and he felt incredibly light-headed.

He never even remembered hitting the floor. All he knew was that his heart had been sliced open, burnt, fried, roasted and skewered. Maybe he didn't have a heart left. He had never experienced heartache so intense. Not when Potter had knocked him off his broom, not when Potter had hexed or cursed him.

Hearing the words come out of Potter's mouth was worse, a hundred times worse, than when Pansy or his father had spoken them. Draco couldn't believe how stupid he had been. He had actually thought they had something special, Potter and him. But those hopes had been crushed when Potter had admitted he was in love with that Weasley girl.

Draco had never liked her. Now, he hated, resented and utterly despised her for ruining his life, his future, with Potter. Someday, she would pay. Whatever he did, he would not rest until he had made her suffer as much as him. She would have to endure the pain of losing her boyfriend too, just as he had lost Potter.

After hours, (or was it minutes?) of unendurable pain and agony caused by heartache, and much plotting and scheming to make Ginny Weasley suffer, Draco came to his senses.

All he could feel at first was tingling warmth, which spread from his mouth, all the way down his body. When he had regained feeling in his arms and legs, he realized he was lying on the floor. Funny, he didn't remember lying down there.

Draco opened his eyes. Potter was leaning over him, and…and his mouth was on Draco's! His immediate reaction was to recoil and shriek at the top of his lungs, though whether in surprise or delight, he really wasn't sure.

Instead, he did the sensible thing. He melted into the kiss. Draco felt like he had died and gone to heaven. The world seemed like a wonderful place right then. His severed heart had been healed; he couldn't feel any kind of pain, it had been replaced by ecstasy and the wonderful sensation of Potter's lips against his own. He had incredibly smooth, soft lips, Draco noted.

After what must have been a minute, they broke apart. Both of them were panting hard. "What was that for?" was the only thing Draco could come up with.

Harry blushed, his cheeks reddening. "Uh…I was just…you know, doing that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation thing because you'd fainted and stopped breathing."

"Not that, Potter," Draco said, refusing to let Potter off that easily, "The one-minute kiss after the resuscitation."

"Oh, uh…" Potter stopped, unable to come up with an answer.

"Admit it, Potter," Draco smirked, his confidence returning, "You like me."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Chapter 3

HARRY

"No I do not like you!" Harry protested, his face flushing, "I really, really like you." he admitted, feeling his face burning.

"Aha!" Malfoy smirked, "Well, well, well…If it isn't the famous Harry Potter, being gay as the Fourth of July. This will certainly be news to your fan club, won't it?" sneered Malfoy, eyes glinting maliciously.

"But I thought - we were just – aren't you gay?" spluttered Harry, getting ready to sink into the Chamber of Secrets and live with the Basilisk's corpse.

Malfoy heaved a sigh. "Potter, did you honestly think I was homosexual? I mean, where did you even get that idea?" he asked incredulously, as if they'd never had that one-minute kiss that had turned out to be the best minute of Harry's life.

"From the way you reacted to me kissing you a minute ago!" Harry said, with as much dignity as he could muster, while his face felt so hot he was sure it would boil and peel off.

"That's because I was still woozy from fainting and almost dying!" Malfoy laughed, like it was the best practical joke in the world. "I was dreaming about Pansy, and must have mistaken you for her!" he was laughing so hard now he was tearing up.

"Wait till I tell everyone Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the famous celebrity, is gay!" Malfoy guffawed, actually dropping onto the floor and rolling around clutching his stomach.

"I can't believe I liked a jerk like you!" Harry said, anger boiling within him. "I never should've listened to that crap Hermione gave me about 'love thy enemy' and 'forgive and forget'! _Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted, aiming for Malfoy.

Malfoy had been expecting it. He rolled out of the way, pointed and yelled, "_Tarantallegra!_"

The spell hit Harry in the legs and he immediately began to tap-dance uncontrollably. "May I have this dance, Potter?" Malfoy asked, wicked humour gleaming in his eyes.

"N-n-no y-you m-may n-not!" Harry managed between the non-stop dance steps.

Malfoy grabbed his hand and spun Harry towards him anyway. They began a fast-paced version of tap-dancing and tarantella. Even with his legs jerking around uncontrollably, Harry still found room to admire Malfoy's graceful dance steps. Malfoy was twirling them around with the speed and agility of a dancer, and Harry wondered vaguely where he'd learnt to dance like that.

After a few minutes, the effects of the jinx began to wear off, and Malfoy ended the dance with a flourish, twirling the two of them so that their faces were inches apart, their bodies almost touching.

Harry stared into those pale blue eyes, those charming, alluring eyes, and knew that this was whom he belonged with, and nothing Malfoy said or did could be done about that. At that moment, Harry simply didn't care about anything in the world except the handsome young man standing before him.

What does it matter, really? Harry thought to himself. Ron and Hermione wouldn't hate me just because of my sexual preference. Ginny would still be my little sister. My fan club will just have to learn to live with the fact that I'm gay. And Dumbledore would be proud of me. Malfoy…I'm not sure what he'll think, but I won't stop loving him.

All these thoughts ran though Harry's mind as he looked into Malfoy's pale blue sapphires, and was surprised to see a passionate fire burning in them. Slowly, Malfoy leaned in closer, and Harry closed the gap between them as they shared a tender kiss.

They broke apart, gasping for air. "I thought you said you weren't gay?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"I was trying to see how much you liked me, and how much insulting you could stand before you started jinxing me," Malfoy said, smirking his signature smirk. "I have to know these things to be your boyfriend, you know." He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"I guess you just made it official," Harry said, flushing. "Just one little thing, we should start calling each other by our first names…Draco."

"Yeah, sure…Harry." Malfoy, no, Draco replied, a lilt in his voice.

"Hey, it's getting late…" Harry said, nodding his head at the clock on Draco's bedside table.

"Yeah, we should probably get some sleep. We should get to bed, Harry." Draco said.

"What exactly did you mean by 'we' and 'get to bed'?" Harry asked mischievously.

"I meant what you thought I meant," Draco replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "C'mon."

They climbed onto Draco's bed and fell on each other. Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter 4

HARRY

Harry opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming into the room, momentarily blinding him. Harry closed his eyes and smiled. He'd had an exceptionally good dream last night. In the dream, he and Draco Malfoy had kissed, and – and –

Harry's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright in his bed. Except…it wasn't his bed. It had green hangings with serpents embroidered on them rather than his red hangings with lion embroidery. Harry looked around. He was in a Slytherin dormitory, that much was obvious. The place was covered with green and silver furnishings. Harry then noticed something odd. There was only one bed in the entire dorm, the bed he was sitting on.

Harry glanced at the figure lying next to him. Draco Malfoy was snoring softly, his back to Harry. '_Spoiled rich brat,_' he thought to himself, grinning slightly, '_Gets a whole dorm on his own._' Harry laid a hand on the smooth planes of Draco's back, and traced a finger lightly on it.

So last night had been real. Harry had to restrain himself from leaping out of bed and dancing with joy. For two long years, he'd longed to tell Draco how he felt about him. Now that he finally had, he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He no longer worried about what people might think of the two of them. He felt that together, they could overcome anything, even Voldemort.

Harry stopped as a dreadful thought struck him. Draco…Draco was in Slytherin. He was a Death Eater. He was a servant of the Dark Lord. He was working for the Dark Side. He most probably only pretended to like Harry so he could turn him over to Voldemort, who would kill Harry and reward the Malfoys. All these thoughts churned around in Harry's mind as he tried to decipher what he should do.

'_Why would Draco do such a thing?_' a voice popped up inside his head. '_You love Draco, and he loves you._'

'_All Draco wants is power and glory._' another voice popped up. '_You are nothing to him, Harry._'

'_Don't listen to him,_' Voice One whispered, '_You should have more faith in Draco than this_.' it chided Harry.

'_Oh, don't mind him!_' Voice Two hissed, '_Why would Draco turn good just for the sake of you? His family has always prided itself in being pure-blood and evil._'

'_SHUT UP!_' Harry thought as hard as possible. Voices One and Two shut up.

Harry decided he would take Voice One's advice, and trust Draco. But he would be more careful than ever around him, just in case he was a spy of Voldemort's.

Draco woke up just then. He blinked, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sat up and grinned at Harry. "Potter!" he exclaimed in delight, "So it's real! I thought it was a fantasy of mine."

"Me too, Draco, me too," Harry said, smiling slightly.

"Oh, right!" Draco smacked his forehead, "You're not Potter now, you're Harry! Sorry, Harry. Old habits die hard."

"It's okay," Harry said, shrugging. "C'mon, let's go get some breakfast, I'm starving after last night's…" he trailed off, feeling his face glow.

Draco gave a wicked grin. "What's the matter, Harry?" he teased, "Embarrassed?"

"You wish," Harry replied, glaring at his new boyfriend, who was smirking from ear to ear.

"Then let's go down and tell everyone the news!" Draco said impatiently. "What're you waiting for?"

"What? Now?" Harry asked, slightly panicked. "Everyone?" he asked weakly.

"Yes! Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Pansy, Ron, Hermione, Ginny…and anyone else we come across on the way down." Malfoy said, ticking the names off on his hand.

"But – but –" Harry protested. He never got a chance to argue his case. Draco grabbed his wand, waved it, and a second later they were dressed. They were both dressed in their Hogwarts school robes, but Harry had on a green tie, instead if a scarlet one. Draco then proceeded to propel Harry towards the door.

"Sorry about the clothes, Harry," Draco said as he pulled Harry down the stairs two at a time, "I'm afraid I don't have any red ties for you."

"It-'s o-kay-y," Harry gasped as he was jolted down the stairs, trying to keep up with Draco.

By the time they arrived in the Great Hall, a crowd had gathered. It hadn't helped that Draco had yelled, "I'm dating Harry Potter!" at every single person they passed in the hallways either.

Draco led Harry over to the Slytherin table, and the crowd followed. Harry could feel his face burning as the crowd pointed and whispered. Draco climbed onto the Slytherin table, pulling Harry up with him. The crowd was growing, soon it looked as though the whole school was there. Draco waved his hand for quiet, and the crowd fell silent. Harry thought he could hear his heart hammering against his chest, beads of sweat were trickling down his neck, and his legs felt like they were made of jelly.

Draco seemed to know how Harry felt. He put his hand on Harry's waist, pulled him closer and whispered, "Scared, Harry?" with a devilish grin on his handsome face.

Harry gritted his teeth, mutter, "You wish." and playfully dug Draco in the ribs.

Draco's smile widened, he gripped Harry tighter, the turned to face the crowd. "Well, I don't think I should say it to get my point across. Let me show you what I want to say."

Draco spun Harry to face him, then leaned forward. Their lips met. Harry felt a dizzying sensation as Draco's lips touched his own, and heard nothing but his blood roaring in his ears. The crowd watching had all but faded away as he melted into the kiss. Harry felt whole in that instant. His lips fit perfectly on Draco's, his body melded against Draco as if they'd been made for each other. He knew Draco was whom he belonged with, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Harry wasn't sure how long they kissed. Nor did he care. None of the kisses they'd had last night had been so full of tenderness, passion, and most of all, love. Draco broke the kiss. "You liked that, didn't you?" he breathed, playing with a lock of his hair.

Harry felt a shiver of anticipation run up his spine. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and clung tighter to Draco. Harry was abruptly returned to reality by a piercing pain in his stomach. "Ow!" Harry muttered, then blinked and saw the cause of the pain.

Ginny Weasley had climbed onto the table, and judging by her stance, she had just landed a punch to his gut. Her face was contorted with fury, and she gave Harry such a look of anger it would have made Mrs Weasley jealous. Her red hair looked like flames billowing about her head, ready to unleash her rage upon Harry.

She looked so ferocious even Draco backed away. "Harry James Potter!" she shrieked, losing her temper, "How could you? I thought you were my boyfriend, you jerk!" She then slapped him so hard across the face his glasses fell off and clattered away across the table. Ginny glared at him, angrily trying to brush away the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "I hate you!" she sobbed, before jumping down from the Slytherin table and racing out the Hall.

Harry felt hollow inside. The part of him that had been whole when Draco had kissed him now felt like a deflated air balloon that had been stomped, kicked, trampled and dragged in the mud. He stared despairingly after Ginny, then bent and attempted to locate his glasses.

"Here you go," Ron's voice said from above his head, and he handed him his glasses. "_Reparo!_" Ron muttered, and Harry's glasses mended itself.

"Thanks," Harry said, relieved that someone, at least, cared about him. If Ron could understand how he felt, he was confident Ginny would, too.

Harry had just put on his newly repaired glasses when Ron gave him such a blow it sent his glasses flying again. 'That's for my sister," he growled at Harry, his jaw and fists clenched in anger. "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER AGAIN!" Ron bellowed, kicking Harry's glasses out of his reach before jumping off the table and running after his sister.

Harry wasn't sure how much more battering his heart could take. He'd already lost Ginny, now Ron was leaving him, too. He'd hoped Ron would understand, and help him convince Ginny, but that was now impossible. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the amount of noise the crowd was making. He was so disoriented and hurt he couldn't even tell if they were cheering or jeering.

Harry felt hands on his shoulders, and looked up into his boyfriend's slate blue eyes, filled with nothing but concern for him. Harry was calmed by the notion that, despite Ron and Ginny hating him for it, he had finally gotten together with Draco.

Draco repaired Harry's glasses and handed them to him. "Don't worry, Harry," he said softly, "You'll get Ron and Ginny back."

Harry sighed dejectedly. "I hope so," he said morosely, climbing off the Slytherin table with Draco.

DRACO

Draco felt bad about being the cause of Harry losing his best friend and ex-girlfriend. Would Harry be mad? If he was, would he ever forgive him? Draco was starting to have doubts about getting together with Harry. He'd made Harry lose two of the people he cared most about, and publicly humiliated and embarrassed him on top of that.

He hadn't meant to cause such a dramatic scene, he'd only wanted everyone to know about the two of them. 'If only I hadn't gotten so carried away," he thought, berating himself again and again for not waiting for Harry's say so before telling the entire student body that Harry Potter was gay and was dating him.

Draco wasn't sure how he could ever fix things up with Harry. He didn't think he could stand to see the look on Harry's face the next time they saw each other. It had caused him enough pain for the four years he'd had to endure of them being enemies, when really all he wanted was for them to be friends (or boyfriends). It had hurt to see the look of hatred and loathing Harry used to give him whenever they met. Draco thought they'd put those days behind them when they'd had the accident with the Skrewt in their fourth year.

Draco smiled slightly at the memory. Harry had been trying to save him from being squashed by the giant Skrewt, and they had gone rolling down a slope together. Draco remembered how he'd felt when they'd ended up on top of each other. He'd wanted so badly to tilt his head up a few more inches to meet those perfect, sculpted lips of Harry's that were oh so close to his. Harry had looked worse for wear after their roll down the hill, but even with his jet black hair covered with leaves and twigs, his robes ripped and his face badly scraped, he still looked hot.

Ever since then, Harry had certainly stopped yelling insults and curses at him whenever they passed each other in corridors, nor had he seemed to hate him as much. In fact, for the last two years, they'd been on the road to being friends if not for the fact that they'd slept together last night, which officially made them more than friends.

Draco sighed miserably. After six years of longing, he'd finally gotten his wish, and then he'd blown it. 'Why would Harry forgive me anyway?' Draco thought resignedly, 'I made him lose Ron and Ginny, maybe even Hermione, too.' He'd learned from Harry that Ron and Hermione were dating, and if Ron was against this, Hermione would most certainly be as well.

"Stop moping around," Zabini snapped, shaking Draco out of his trance, "He's either mad at you or he's not. No point worrying about it until you know for sure."

It was right after dinner, and they were sitting on chairs close to the fire in the chilly Slytherin common room, Crabbe and Goyle standing with their arms crossed, their backs to them, like a couple of badly trained bodyguards.

"I suppose you're right," Draco sighed, getting up. "I think I'm going to bed. And mind you, my father will not hear a word about me and Harry, understood?" he snapped, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle's enormous backsides.

"Yes, Malfoy," they both muttered dully, shifting to allow Draco room to get out.

Once in his room, Draco locked the door and went to the fireplace. For once, Draco was actually glad his dad had so much money he could afford to buy a whole dorm just for him. It had always made him feel isolated, separated from the other Slytherins that were in his year. But right now he was relieved to have the room to himself, because it gave him the privacy he needed.

Draco just couldn't take not knowing anymore. When Harry had gone back to the Gryffindor common room after breakfast with his head hung low, he had wanted to run up and ask him right then whether he hated Draco or not. But he'd restrained himself, knowing Harry was torn up over losing Ron and Ginny. Draco had wanted to ask Harry about it during the day, but they hadn't seen each other as all, and they hadn't had a single lesson together. Draco was probably going to have to break a few rules, but he was going to find out if Harry hated him tonight, and nothing was going to stop him.

Draco took a pinch of powder from a can hanging from the mantel, and threw it into the fire. At once the dying embers rose into a blazing, crackling, bright green fire. Draco stepped into the green flames, shouted, "Gryffindor common room!" and was spun around, flashing past different fireplaces in different houses, until at last he felt himself slowing down, and he flung his hands out, collapsing onto the rug in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

Draco pulled himself up, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling and terrible headache he always got when he travelled by Floo Powder. He always got more Floo-Powder-sick than most people he knew. When the room had started coming into sharper focus, Draco got to his feet, weaving unsteadily. He jumped slightly when he realized a crowd of curious Gryffindors had gathered around him.

"Um, can anyone tell me if Harry's here?" he asked, trying not to pass out from Floo-Powder-sickness.

"You son of a banshee! How dare you show your face!" Before Draco had time to react, Ron Weasley had tackled him to the floor, and started punching every inch of him he could reach.

"That's – for – my – sister!" Ron yelled, leveling a punch for every word, "And – that's – for – Harry!" he threw in a few extra blows, until Draco thought his head had been cleaved open by a Hippogriff, and he was starting to see double.

Someone in the crowd (it looked like Thomas and Finnigan) wrestled Ron away, kicking and yelling curses at Draco. Even in his bewildered state, Draco could hear just how foul those curses were.

With a huge effort, Draco picked himself up, and wearily faced the crowd again. "So is Harry here?" he asked through clenched teeth, wincing at the pain inflicted from Ron's blows and his Floo-Powder-sickness inflicted headache.

"I'm here," Harry said quietly, somewhere to the back of the crowd. "Would you mind if we talked somewhere more private?" Harry asked, raising his voice. The crowd took the hint and dispersed.

Once the crowd had gone, Harry quickly went over to Draco. "Draco, are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice. "What happened? What's up with Ron? I just got back from Quidditch practice."

Draco closed his eyes, willing himself not to black out just yet. "I'm fine, Harry," he said, "I came over here by Floo Powder; I wanted to ask you something. And Ron sort of attacked me."

Draco couldn't read the expression on Harry's face, mostly because he was having trouble remaining conscious, and his vision was slipping. "So what was it you wanted to ask me?" Harry asked, his expression still unreadable.

"I wanted to ask you how much you hated me, and if there's any chance you're ever going to forgive me." Draco said, the words tumbling out in a rush, while he grabbed the mantel for support as he felt his legs buckle slightly.

"Why would I hate you?" Harry sounded genuinely puzzled, or maybe he was just playing dumb, trying to hurt Draco for what had happened that morning in the Great Hall.

"For making you lose your best friend and ex-girlfriend, and for embarrassing you in front of the whole school!" Draco said, surprising himself by his own courage. Or maybe it was the fact that if he didn't tell Harry and get it off his chest soon, he would faint and maybe lose the chance to tell Harry how sorry he was.

"Draco…" Harry said softly, so softly Draco had to strain to hear his name, "I don't hate you. Why should I? What Ron and Ginny think isn't your fault, and you didn't embarrass me, you helped me. If it weren't for you, I would never have had the strength to stand up in front of all those people and confess of my homosexuality. But now that I have, it's a relief. A lot of people think it's cool that we're together, actually. And so do I. I love you, Draco."

Draco couldn't tell if he was hallucinating or not, but if it was, he would rather stay insane for the rest of his life. "I love you too, Harry," he whispered, trying to find Harry's sparkling emerald green eyes through his haze of pain. He didn't have to. Harry's lips brushed against his own, and he knew instantly that this was no hallucination. Even he couldn't dream up something as good as the feel of Harry's velvet soft lips against his own, and the way their bodies fit against each other perfectly, as if they'd been made for each other.

Draco broke the kiss abruptly, leaned sideways and retched into the fire. Then his legs gave way and he blacked out.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

HARRY

Harry tried not to panic, but it was hard. His boyfriend had puked and fainted after kissing him, and Harry was pretty sure it wasn't his breath.

As he stood there uncertainly, debating whether or not to attempt artificial respiration again and have Draco wake up kissing him, or bring him straight to the hospital wing and let Madam Pomfrey sort him out.

There were only so many things mouth-to-mouth resuscitation could heal. Besides, as much as Harry loved Draco, there was still vomit on his mouth, and he was turning a sickly shade of green that matched his Slytherin tie perfectly. In the end, Harry decided on the latter choice.

"Need some help over here!" he yelled, and a crowd immediately formed. He glared around suspiciously. "You were eavesdropping on me and Draco, weren't you?" he demanded, glowering around. The crowd shifted uneasily, shooting nervous glances at each other. "It doesn't matter," Harry said, his anger fading, "Just help me with him."

Dean, Seamus and Neville ran forward and helped lift Draco onto a couch. Harry hovered uncertainly, unsure of what he should do. "Anyone know why he fainted?" he asked the crowd at large, stroking the side of Draco's pale cheek.

"Could be that Ron hit him too hard," Seamus suggested.

"Or maybe he's Floo-Powder-sick." Dean said.

"Or it could be both," Neville piped up.

"I think you're right, Neville," said Harry, "Madam Pomfrey can fix him up."

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Harry muttered, and levitated Draco a few feet into the air. The crowd parted and let him pass. Harry floated Draco to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey was cleaning the hospital beds.

"Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, and before she could start ranting about seeing him in the hospital wing for the second time in a week (he'd had a rather nasty accident during Quidditch practice), Harry cut her off. "It's not me, it's Draco."

He floated Draco inside, then gently set him down on a bed. "I think he's Floo-Powder-sick," he said, then silently cursed himself. Would Draco get in trouble for using Floo Powder inside Hogwarts? Harry wasn't sure whether it was allowed or not.

If Madam Pomfrey found it surprising, she didn't show it. She pursed her lips and bustled about, pulling bottles from shelves. She laid a hand on Draco's clammy forehead. "Hm… Floo-Powder-sickness, you say? If that's the case, then it's quite serious." Madam Pomfrey said, frowning as she checked Draco's temperature.

"I bet it wouldn't help that he was beaten up moments later, right?" Harry asked, feeling worried and confused. A thousand questions were swirling around inside his head. Why didn't Draco tell him he was prone to Floo-Powder-sickness? Why had Draco used Floo Powder in the first place if he'd known he would be sick?

"No, it wouldn't," Madam Pomfrey said, squinting suspiciously at Harry.

"Hey, it wasn't me!" Harry protested, "It was…someone else." Harry wasn't sure what he would have said, but he wouldn't have sold Ron out, even though Ron hated him.

Madam Pomfrey stopped glaring at Harry and focused on Draco's condition. "He should be fine after a good night's sleep," she proclaimed, tapping Draco's arm lightly with her wand. The effect was immediate. Draco's skin tone lost its sickly green tinge and colour started to return to Draco's pale cheeks, although his usual shade wasn't that much of a difference, and his breathing deepened.

"Will you be staying, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said, feeling his ears redden, like Ron's did when he was embarrassed.

"Well, in that case, kindly inform me when Mr Malfoy wakes up, will you?" Madam Pomfrey asked, "He's got to take this potion conscious." Harry nodded, and Madam Pomfrey went into her office, presumably to brew the potion for Draco.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey closed her office door, Harry drew up a chair and sat down next to Draco. Harry smoothed Draco's pale blonde hair back from his forehead, not that it needed any smoothing; it was slicked back as always.

Pressing a hand lightly on Draco's forehead, Harry could tell just how much he was improving. While a few minutes before he had been icy cold, he was now just cold, and this was pretty much Draco's average body temperature anyway.

Careful not to jostle the bed and wake Draco, Harry leaned forward and kissed him gently, murmuring softly, "Draco, I'm so sorry. I should have said something before leaving in such a hurry this morning." In response to his apology, it seemed, Draco gave a contented sigh, his eyes still shut tight.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there, sometimes tucking Draco's blanket under his chin, sometimes just holding his pale hand, when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up, and was startled to find Hermione standing there, Ron behind her.

"Harry, can we have a word outside?" Hermione asked tentatively, chewing her lip nervously.

"Yeah, you can have a word," Harry said, standing up, "But I'm not leaving Draco." He added, and glared at them, silently daring them to cross him.

"It's okay, Harry, we'll talk here," said Hermione, after exchanging several furtive looks with Ron.

"Look, Harry," Ron said, shooting him a half-annoyed, half-gratified look, "I know you can't help liking guys, but why did you mess with my sister if you liked Malfoy so much?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question, but Harry answered him anyway.

"Ron, I _didn't_ mess with Ginny," Harry said, using his most pacifying tone, "We didn't even kiss! The most we did was hold hands and take walks around the lake."

"And you think that makes it okay?" Ron said furiously, "You think playing with her heart and messing with her emotions are fine? D'you know how much she likes you? D'you even care about her, Harry?"

"Of course I care about her!" said Harry, restraining himself from punching Ron in the face. "Why d'you think I haven't started going out with Draco until now? Ever since fourth year, I've wanted to tell Draco how much I liked him, but then Ginny started pestering me, and somehow we ended up going out. I know I should've told her I prefer guys, but she'd get all teary whenever I tried bringing it up, and I didn't want to hurt her!"

"And I don't think she really likes me that much, she went out with Micheal Corner and Dean Thomas when we were dating, you know. Is that what you do to the one you love?" Harry said this all in a breath, venting out every frustration and fury he'd felt for the past two years, every hurt and humiliation he'd endured.

He stood there, breathing heavily. His emotions had been bottled up for so long it was a relief to pull out the stopper and let them pour out. He remembered how he'd felt after rescuing Draco from the Blast-Ended Skrewt two years ago, and how he'd felt when Ginny had taken over his life, claiming they were perfect for each other, and preventing him from going anywhere near Draco.

Harry wished he could have told Ginny no two years ago, but he had been too kind, or too cowardly, to say so. If only he'd confessed and told Ginny everything, how he felt about Draco, and how he thought of her as his sister, then maybe things wouldn't have turned out like this. He and Draco could have had two more years together, and Ron and Ginny wouldn't hate him.

But there was no use bemoaning the past, the best he could do was focus on the present. And so with a huge effort, Harry pulled himself back out of his bottle of emotions and corked it shut.

Ron and Hermione were standing there looking like they'd been slapped. Harry's outburst seemed to have shaken them up pretty badly. After an eternal pause, Ron said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Harry. I – I didn't realize. I'll try talking to Ginny later." Then he stuck out his hand, "We cool, Harry?"

Harry considered rejecting the handshake, and showing Ron how it felt to be unjustly accused, but decided against it. "We cool," he said, grinning at Ron, who beamed in response.

Hermione had tears in her eyes. She hurriedly wiped them away and gave Harry a watery smile, then flung herself into Harry's arms. "Oh, Harry!" she said, hiccupping a little, "I'm sorry you had to go through all that alone. It must have been horrible for you." She took a step back and tried to control her tears. When they didn't cease, she went out into the hallway to calm down.

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "Girls," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'd better go check on her. I'll see you back in the common room, eh, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and Ron left. Turning back to the bed, he continued sitting there, waiting for Draco to wake up, his heart now feeling lighter than ever.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

DRACO

The darkness wasn't too bad. At least his final image before he'd blacked out was of Harry kissing him. But although he didn't mind the dark, it didn't necessarily mean he liked it either.

Draco wished he hadn't been born into a family of Dark wizards, wished he hadn't become a Death Eater like his parents, wished he didn't have to kill Dumbledore in order to save himself and his parents from being killed by the Dark Lord. But most of all, he wished he wasn't on the Dark Side, fighting against Harry.

Suddenly Draco longed for light. He tried opening his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy, and he couldn't feel his arms or legs. As he struggled to regain consciousness, it suddenly occurred to Draco how ironic his situation was. Here he was, surrounded by darkness, unable to breach its perimeter and gravitate towards light, when all he wanted was to embrace the light.

Even though Draco was indeed a Death Eater, he wanted no part in the Dark Side. All he wanted was to protect his parents, whom the Dark Lord intended to kill, unless he succeeded in murdering Dumbledore. He couldn't have cared less about his own future, his own destiny, but it would be nice to remain alive for as long as possible.

Draco wanted with all his heart to leave the Dark Side and fight against it together with Harry. In fact, if it weren't for his parents' sake, he would have done so, regardless of the consequences. But Draco loved his parents more than anything, and as much as he hated his life now, he knew it would all be over soon in a few months, one way or another.

Even as Draco tried to fathom how he could think while he was unconscious, or even think about thinking, he realized he had regained feeling in his limbs, and he felt a warm pressure on his left hand. With some effort, he managed to open his eyes, and gave them time to adjust to his surroundings.

He was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, and judging by the darkness of the room, it must have been late at night. Harry was sitting on a chair next to his bed, holding his hand, but he was fast asleep, his head tilting dangerously towards the edge of the bed.

Draco could move his hand just enough to prevent Harry from bumping his head on the bed, but the movement woke Harry.

"Whassmatter?" asked Harry groggily, then he saw Draco awake, and his face split into a relieved smile. "Hey, sleeping beauty, about time you woke up."

"Wh-wh-wha-?" Draco rasped, trying to form words his parched tongue would not allow.

"Wait, I gotta go tell Madam Pomfrey you're up," Harry said, before running to her office and knocking loudly on her door. "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake!" Harry called, still knocking.

Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway, with curlers in her hair and an annoyed expression on her face. "Next time, knocking _once_ would do, Potter," she said, her tone clipped, before hurriedly filling a flask with green potion and handing it to Draco.

The potion was scalding, and it tasted like something Dobby, his former house elf, would have worn for underwear. Draco coughed and spluttered, trying very hard not to throw up the disgusting potion.

When the flask was about half empty, Draco instantly felt better. The last vestiges of his Floo-Powder-sickness ebbed away, and his vision came into sharper focus. He drained the flask in two large gulps and managed to sit up without feeling woozy.

Once Madam Pomfrey had determined he was fine, she bustled back into her office, leaving Draco alone with Harry. There was a long, awkward pause. Draco and Harry stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

Draco finally broke the silence. "I-I'm sorry, Harry," he said, looking everywhere but at Harry, "I didn't mean to come between you and Ron. Ginny, too." He forced himself to look into those startlingly green eyes.

"Maybe we should stop seeing each other, Harry," said Draco, almost choking on the words. He hadn't known it would hurt this much just saying them. He wondered what he would feel if Harry were the one saying those words. He probably wouldn't feel anything because he would already have died of heartache.

Harry didn't answer, he just continued staring at him intently. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Draco knew all was lost. Harry must hate him, why else would he be leaning towards him, his face only an inch from Draco?

As Draco gave an involuntary flinch, expecting harsh words or even a blow to his face, Harry did something so unexpected Draco nearly fainted again.

Harry leaned in closer, until the sparkling emeralds that were his eyes had filled Draco's vision, and their lips met. As Draco's eyes widened in surprise and delight, Harry broke the kiss long enough to say softly, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Draco."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry climbed onto Draco's bed and started kissing him again. This time, they didn't stop. Draco only vaguely recalled Harry muttering something that sounded like "_Muffliato!_" and pointing his wand at Madam Pomfrey's office, but he was past caring by that point.

All he knew was that Harry wasn't mad at him, and most certainly didn't hate him. Things might be able to turn out alright after all.

Draco would only later wonder why Madam Pomfrey had heard nothing all throughout the night…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Chapter 7

HARRY

Harry couldn't imagine life being any better than this. He was going out with Draco, Ron and Hermione didn't hate him for it, the whole school seemed to have acknowledged the fact that he was gay, and Ginny had even started talking to him recently. She was going out with Dean Thomas again, and was quite happy with it.

Two weeks had passed since he and Draco had first announced to the entire school that they were dating, and although he and Draco did attract some stares and snide comments, Harry felt that it was all worth it. He had certainly never been happier before in his life, except for when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, and would be leaving the Dursleys and going to Hogwarts.

He and Draco had gone out on a few dates. Sometimes they had a walk around the lake and would even go for a swim. Harry smiled, remembering the time they'd gone for a swim and came across the Giant Squid. Draco had had to rescue Harry and revive him via mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. They'd resolved never to go swimming without their wands again.

Sometimes he and Draco would book the Quidditch pitch and play against each other. Harry had never realized how taxing it could be to play all seven positions on the team at once. These sessions usually ended with the both of them too exhausted to do anything much.

And sometimes they would meet up in the Room of Requirement, which they could transform at will into any room that so suited them. Once Draco had decided to surprise Harry, and turned the room into a miniature Amazon forest, filled with tropical plants and poisonous vipers. Harry had made up his mind never to let Draco 'surprise' him again.

Harry grinned, staring vaguely into space, dreaming about Draco. He, Ron and Hermione were in Potions, and Slughorn was busy writing the day's potion on the board. He glanced around the room, and spotted Draco looking at him, smirking slightly. Harry felt himself blush and quickly averted his eyes back to the board.

"Today we will be creating a rather special potion," Slughorn said, beaming around, his walrus moustache quivering, "One that I believe I mentioned at the start of term." Here he paused for dramatic effect, before saying theatrically, "Amortentia."

The whole class drew a collective breath, and Harry felt butterflies in his stomach. Amortentia was the most powerful love potion in the world, and although it didn't create love, it certainly created the impression. Harry wondered whether or not he would be able to try some of Draco's potion after class ended, just to try it out.

As if he'd read Harry's mind, Slughorn added sternly, "Mind you, we're only doing this for strictly academic purposes, nothing else. So don't drink each others' potions, am I clear?"

The class groaned as one, and they all went about setting up their cauldrons and ingredients for the potion. As Harry was getting an extra flask at the cabinet next to the sink, Draco slid up beside him, swift and silent as a snake, and beat him to the flask.

"Here," Draco said, grinning as he handed Harry the flask.

"Thanks," Harry said, opting for a more sarcastic tone but failing miserably.

"See you after class, Harry," Draco whispered softly, his cool breath tickling his ear, before giving Harry his signature sexy smirk and striding back to his own seat.

Harry felt heat creeping up in his cheeks for the hundredth time since he'd started dating Draco Malfoy, and hurried back to his seat as fast as he could before anyone noticed.

When Harry had everything set up, he rifled through the Prince's potions book, until he found the right page. As per usual, beside the book's standard instructions were another list written by the Prince himself.

Harry got to work, following the Prince's directions and completely ignoring those written by whoever had written the book. He added two more newt tails, one less salamander and a few dozen more clockwise stirs than the book had instructed.

When Slughorn called for them to pack up, Harry's potion was a deep shade of lilac, exactly as the book had said it should be. With a feeling of immense satisfaction, Harry began packing up. Just then, a thought struck him. Slughorn had said they shouldn't try each others' potions, but where was the harm in trying anyway? He and Draco already loved each other, what more could the potion bring for them?

Acting impulsively, Harry seized the extra flask he'd procured earlier, filled it to the brim with lilac potion when no one was looking, and slipped it into his cloak. Glancing over at Draco, Harry saw that he was doing the exact same thing. As if sensing his gaze, Draco looked up. Their eyes met, and they both grinned. Sometimes the two of them were so alike it was scary.

The bell signaling the end of Potions rang, and everyone pushed and shoved at each other to get to the door. Harry and Draco met up in their usual hideout, the Room of Requirement. Apparently Draco knew about it, too. He'd said something about the Inquisitorial Squad using it for meetings last year, but Harry didn't believe him. For one thing, he hadn't met Harry's eyes when he was telling him, and for another, he would always change the subject whenever talk got to him using the Room.

But it couldn't be anything that big a deal, or Draco would have said something, would have told him. If there was anything Harry knew for sure about Draco, it was that he would never break a promise, he always kept his word. Harry trusted Draco, and he knew there must be a good reason for him not confiding in Harry what his true use of the Room was. The important thing was that they had each other.

Unfortunately for Harry, it was Draco's turn to pick the use of the Room of Requirement this time. "There, it's done," Draco said, smirking as he held the door open for Harry, after having stared at the blank wall for a minute, concentrating on the appearance the room should take.

With a resigned air, Harry braced himself and stepped through the door. What he saw took his breath away. He was in what appeared to be a room made entirely out of ice. Every surface gleamed with a dazzling pure white light that made his eyes water just by looking at it, and a layer of soft snow lay on the floor like a fluffy carpet. Snowflakes were falling gently from the enchanted ceiling, floating down to his feet and blanketing the snowy floor.

There was no furniture in the room except for a pool, which was either an enormous bathtub or a small swimming pool, mounted on a platform in the center of the room. The pool was a work of art, even the bath in the prefects' bathroom couldn't match its grandeur. It seemed to be hewn out of transparent ice, so that Harry could see through it to the other side of the room. The ice sculptures on the sides of the pool were of four pretty maidens with flowing hair, each holding a bucket in her hand, pouring water which cascaded gently into the pool, giving it an endless supply of icy water. The water surged in the pool, swirling around even though there was no current, forming a whirlpool.

Above the pool hung a glistening silver-white chandelier made of ice, blue tongues of flame dancing on the tips of its numerous candles, casting a bluish hue over the surface of the water. Enchanted candles with flickering blue flames floated in the air, throwing shadows across the dazzlingly white walls, and heating up the temperature of the freezing room.

"Wow…" Harry managed, tearing his eyes away from the bewitched ceiling to look into Draco's stone grey ones. Words utterly failed him at the beauty and magnificence of the room.

Draco gave him a smile, then shifted forward a fraction and crushed his lips against Harry's, while pulling him further into the Room of Requirement.

Draco drew back slightly to allow Harry room to breathe, his grey eyes filled with an intense fire. "Like it?" he murmured softly against Harry's ear. Tongue still unable to form more than one-syllable words, Harry nodded and breathed, "Yeah."

With a satisfied smirk, Draco leaned in even closer and whispered, "Next time, I get to pick the use of the room again, okay?" His cool breath tickled Harry's ear, and instantly made him feel as though he were paralyzed, clogging his mind and making it hard to think straight.

With a stupendous effort, Harry forced himself to concentrate. He tried avoiding the stare of those stormy grey eyes, and willed his tongue to form coherent words. "No, you had your turn." he managed to say, "And don't you dare blackmail me again, Malfoy," he added in a low growl, playfully shoving Draco to the snowy floor.

Instead of picking himself up, Draco grabbed Harry by his scarlet Gryffindor tie and yanked him down, so that Harry found himself about an inch away from that pale pointed face he loved. But right now that face was contorted with fury, and Harry wondered worriedly whether he'd gone too far. Before he could think about backing away, however, Draco executed a fluid maneuver that Harry failed to catch, and before he knew it he was pinned to the ground, Draco on top of him.

"How dare you push me, Potter," hissed Draco, his voice serpentine, his eyes narrowing to become two grey vertical slits. As Harry started to apologize, Draco's face abruptly split into a wicked grin. "I can't believe you fell for that, Harry," he laughed good-naturedly, picking himself off Harry and standing.

"That wasn't funny," Harry grumbled, though his heart immediately felt lighter, as he accepted the hand Draco was holding out and got to his feet.

"It was for me," Draco replied, shrugging, as he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. In one swift move, Draco launched the snowball at Harry and raced away, laughing. It hit him in the stomach, sending an icy chill through his entire body.

"Hey-" he began, but before he had time to finish the sentence, another snowball came flying at him. This one caught him in the face, and Harry gasped as he felt the chill emanate from his face to his whole body.

"Oh, it's on, Malfoy!" yelled Harry, grinning slightly as he started packing and lobbing snowballs. He allowed himself a brief smile as he saw the snowballs strike their target.

After a furious snowball fight which resulted in the victory of Draco, and of Harry having been forced to surrender, the two of them flopped onto the snow, too drained to do anything that required moving.

Both of them were drenched from head to toe and shivering violently from melting ice, and Harry had also had to grudgingly accept that soaked made him look like a drowned rat, whereas Draco soaked gave him a look equivalent to that of a sex god, with his pale blonde hair gleaming with water, his robes clinging to his skin in such a way that his lean muscles were shown in prominence.

To give him an excuse not to stare at Draco, Harry conjured up a ball of blue flame not unlike those on the candles floating all around them, and tried to regain warmth in his body, not to mention restart his blood circulating system, which seemed to have frozen over.

"That was fun," Draco said, his tone conversational, as he lounged on his back in the snow. "Want to do it again?" he asked, with only a modicum of smugness in his voice that Harry nevertheless noticed.

"Sure," Harry replied, smirking inwardly, and before Draco had had time to do more than open his mouth to reply, he had launched a volley of snowballs at him. They hit him one after another, knocking the wind out of Draco.

The competitive streak that was so common among the Slytherins seemed to flash in Draco's eyes, and had he not flashed an evil smirk in Harry's direction before leaping to his feet, he would have been scared witless.

Unsurprisingly, this second fight sapped even the reserve strength from both of them, and Harry was starting to have serious doubts as to whether or not he would be able to get back to Gryffindor tower without medical attention.

They dragged themselves over to the pool and fell in without bothering to take off their already wet robes, Harry so exhausted he barely noted the boiling hot temperature of the water, even though everything else about the room was freezing cold.

There was something very pleasant and satisfying about sitting in a jacuzzi in Arctic weather conditions, chatting amiably with Draco and occasionally having mild water fights. Harry was contemplating falling asleep right there in the pool, and resulting in having to be rescued from drowning by Draco again, when he noticed the clock face of the watch on Draco's hand, dangling inches away from his face.

"Is that the time?" he gasped, trying to gauge how much time it had been since the end of Potions. It had been seven hours. "We should go, Draco." Harry said, not wanting to be caught out of bed after hours. It had been quite unpleasant when Filch had caught him and Hermione at the top of the Astronomy Tower during their first year at Hogwarts.

Draco nodded, although he didn't look that bothered, and clambered out of the pool, drying his robes with a flick of his wand. Harry did the same, and together they went back across the trampled snow (scars of their snowball fights) to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Harry," Draco said, somewhat off-handedly, before leaning in to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek and hurrying away from the Room of Requirement.

"Night," Harry said, more to himself than anyone else, since Draco was already rounding the corridor and getting out of sight. Harry turned and strode as briskly and stealthily as he could back to Gryffindor tower, but before he'd gone more than a dozen steps, he spotted a lone figure pacing back and forth in front of the blank wall that held the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement.

Ducking behind a statue of Clovis the Confused, Harry observed the figure as it went about its pacing, obviously trying to get into the Room. A thousand questions swirled around in his head. Who was the person? What was he doing here at this time of night? How did he know about the Room? Not many people knew of the existence of such a room in Hogwarts, much less the accurate location or the proper way to function it.

As Harry watched, unable to tear his eyes away, the figure stopped its frantic pacing. A black door had materialized in front of it. The door to the Room of Requirement. The figure went in and hurriedly shut the door, but not before Harry had caught a fleeting glimpse of its face.

It was Draco Malfoy.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Chapter 8

DRACO

It seemed there was only one good thing in his life right now. Harry. If it hadn't been for their time spent together, Draco would have broken down a long time ago.

He detested the task with which the Dark Lord had set for him, not only because he was destined to fail in the end, but also because Dumbledore had done no wrong, and however much Draco disliked him, it still felt wrong to murder an old man.

With a sigh, Draco turned round and made his way back to the Room of Requirement, sure Harry would be long gone by now. He paced in front of the blank wall, concentrating hard on his workplace. On his third turn, the familiar black door materialized in front of him, and he slipped inside.

He was met with the usual labyrinthine cluster of objects, piled high to the vaulted ceiling. Draco made his way around the heaps of dusty books, furniture, Dark Artefacts and trinkets that he considered trash, before finding the black cabinet.

It was quite an unremarkable thing, and would have otherwise been indiscernible, had Draco not known the room so well by now. The Vanishing Cabinet was just an ordinary black cabinet, not uncommon in most wizard dwellings, apart from the fact that a pair of them could transport any object from one location to another.

And it just so happened that this particular Vanishing Cabinet was broken, unable to act as a passage between Hogwarts and Borgin and Burkes, where its twin was. If Draco could fix it, he could arrange for the Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts via the portal at Borgin and Burkes. The magical boundaries and restrictions surrounding Hogwarts had not been made to prevent invasion through the Vanishing Cabinet, since hardly anyone knew of its existence.

Once the Death Eaters had gotten inside Hogwarts and created chaos, Draco planned to kill Dumbledore and flee. He had no idea where he would go, assuming he managed to survive that long, and even if he did, he wasn't sure he would be able to muster up the courage of escaping, of abandoning his responsibility to his parents.

Draco knew he had no one to blame but himself for being in this predicament. Maybe if he hadn't been so hasty in accepting the Dark Mark, things would have been different. But there was no point bemoaning the past, Draco chastised himself, and the Dark Lord would probably have murdered him and his family on the spot had he not accepted to being a Death Eater.

Somehow, the notion that he had been blackmailed into becoming the Dark Lord's servant comforted him slightly, and Draco was able to focus on the task at hand. For the rest of the night, he did his best to fix the cabinet. But whatever was the problem with the damn thing, he still didn't know. So far the only improvement he'd managed to get out of it, was that it now regurgitated a quarter of the apple he'd sent to experiment with, rather than the usual nothing.

Satisfied with the night's work, Draco left the Room and headed straight down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, deciding it would be far too late to go to bed, seeing as by the time he fell asleep, he'd have to wake up again.

Draco was stifling a yawn when Blaise and Pansy joined him at the Slytherin table. "Mor-mor-morning," he told them, unsuccessfully trying to hide another yawn.

"Not much sleep last night, I take it?" Blaise asked him, only slightly sarcastic.

"No," Draco replied, "I feel terrible," he complained, groaning inwardly at the prospect of lessons for a whole day before he could get some sleep.

"Don't worry, Draco," Pansy simpered, patting him in what she must have though was a comforting manner. "You still look good." She added, batting here eyelashes at him.

Draco and Blaise shared a private smirk. Pansy was either really persistent or really stupid. The whole school knew he was gay and dating Harry and yet the girl was still pestering him.

Thankfully, he was saved from formulating an answer to that remark by the arrival of Crabbe and Goyle, who lumbered clumsily over to their spot at the table and attempted to squeeze onto the bench.

"So, Draco, how are things with you and _Potter_?" Blaise asked him, his tone light and conversational, even though his mouth turned down slightly. Blaise didn't approve of Draco 'fraternizing with Gryffindors', as he put it, and generally tried to pretend they weren't dating.

"Alright, I guess," Draco mumbled distractedly, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. He noticed the pumpkin juice had an odd flavor today; it was oversweet but also had a bitter tinge to it. He also noticed that Blaise, who was sitting just across from him, had very nice ivory skin and soft luscious hair, not to mention his chocolate brown eyes that seemed to blaze with an inner fire that was drawing him in, warm and inviting.

BLAISE

It had been too easy, really, Blaise thought, smirking inwardly. When Draco had been occupied with Pansy, he had slipped a dose of his own Amortentia (courtesy of yesterday's Potions class) into his pumpkin juice.

The effect had seemed to be immediate. He'd caught Draco gazing dreamily, almost hungrily, at him no sooner had he swallowed the pumpkin juice. That should teach Potter better than to steal his boyfriend, Blaise mused, allowing himself an evil grin.

He had actually fancied Draco for a while now, and their relationship had grown a lot recently, to the point where Blaise had hoped it would progress beyond mere friendship. But those hopes had been crushed when Draco and Potter had started dating two weeks ago.

Blaise could still remember how he'd felt when Draco had climbed onto the Slytherin table, announcing to the entire school that he and Potter were dating. After the initial shock and dismay, he had learned to tolerate the way Draco's eyes would glaze over whenever he was talking about Potter, learned to live with the fact that Draco liked Potter more than him.

But he couldn't resist the temptation yesterday, when he had had a whole vat of love potion in front of him, going to waste. He wanted Draco to like him for one day, but not just as a friend. And besides, he and Potter needed a little time apart. They were spending far too much time together for their own good.

The day's first lesson was Transfiguration. And as Blaise looked up from transfiguring his eyebrows green, he glanced over to see Draco staring abstractedly at him, his eyebrows still their usual pale blonde. Blaise felt a grin tugging on the corners of his lips. It felt so good to be thwarting Potter and winning Draco, even if it was only temporary.

It proved just how worth the trouble it was when Draco cornered him in the bathroom after Transfiguration.

"Blaise," Draco began, his voice breathless, his normally pale cheeks flushed, "I – I –" he began, but was cut short when Blaise pulled him close and smothered his sentence with a kiss.

He felt Draco respond to his touch, felt him melt into the kiss, and heard him moan with desire for more. Draco's fingers wound their way into his hair, and Blaise pressed his hands to the small of Draco's back, closing the gap between their bodies.

The snogging went on for awhile longer, and then somehow they ended up with Draco backed up against the door of a stall, both of them only half-dressed by that point. Blaise would have been only too happy to progress further, and Draco, under the influence of the Amortentia, would have happily obliged.

But most unfortunately for Blaise, the door of the stall Draco was backed up against chose that moment to open. Caught off guard, the pair of them were pushed away and landed on the tiled floor of the bathroom, Draco sprawled on top of him, their limbs entangled, their lips somehow still connected.

Harry Potter came out of the stall, looking bewildered. "What the –" he began, and then stopped abruptly at the sight of them.

Draco, who looked only slightly ruffled at being caught snogging another guy by his boyfriend, picked himself off Blaise, went over to the bathroom door and held it open, gesturing for Potter to leave them alone, his manner calm but firm.

Blaise couldn't help but admire how Draco managed to keep a cool front in a situation like this, when he was practically shirtless and with Potter glowering at him, those green eyes of his suddenly very intimidating, while his hand inched steadily to his wand pocket. But then, Draco was under the spell of Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world, Blaise reminded himself.

Deciding that this might be a good time to intervene, he got to his feet and went over to where Potter was standing, breathing hard, his fists clenched, his whole body shaking with suppressed rage.

"Listen, Potter," Blaise said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, "Draco clearly doesn't think very highly of you if he chose me over you, so I'd suggest you get a move on, and get out of here."

Potter gave no indication that he had heard what Blaise had said. He just stood there glaring daggers at him and Draco, until the fire in his emerald eyes seemed to dim a bit, and he turned on his heel and stormed out the door Draco was still holding open for him.

With an easy, playful smirk, like his boyfriend had not just walked in on him and Blaise, Draco went back over to him and asked mischievously, "So, where were we?"

"I think we were –" Blaise started to say, but was cut short by Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw coming into the bathroom, looking surprised to see the two of them in there. "We should get to class, Draco," Blaise murmured softly, so Goldstein wouldn't hear. "We'll get back to what we were doing after Potions, okay?"

"Okay," said Draco, gazing up at him happily, but with a vacant expression on his face.

Blaise waved his wand and a second later their clothes were straightened and covering places they should cover again.

DRACO

It was unfortunate he and Blaise couldn't have spent more time together, Draco thought ruefully to himself, as he stirred his potion without interest. Every once in awhile, he would glance up from his cauldron to find Blaise staring at him, and they would share a private grin. Every once in awhile, he would glance up and find Harry glaring at him, and he would immediately avert his eyes.

Draco idly wondered what he'd done to cross Harry. He was pretty sure he should know the answer to that question, but he couldn't quite place a finger on it. He left the matter for the moment and focused on Blaise. He looked hot, with his dark hair carefully swept back, his eyes intense and passionate, as he happened to look at Draco, and those sexy lips of his curved upwards slightly. Draco shifted impatiently in his seat. When would this lesson end? He needed it to end so he and Blaise could go find a secluded spot and –

"Ahem." Startled, Draco glanced behind him to see Slughorn standing directly behind him. "Mr Malfoy, come with me." he said, his expression unreadable.

Seeing he had no choice, Draco got up and followed him to his desk at the front of the classroom. Upon reaching his desk, Slughorn grabbed a vial filled with potion and held it out to him. "Drink it," he advised, his eyes twinkling.

Eyeing the vial suspiciously, Draco considered the odds he had of pretending to gulp it down without Slughorn noticing he hadn't drunk anything. Deciding the odds were against him with the Potions master eyeing him that closely, Draco sighed, took the vial and downed it in a gulp.

A peculiar sensation spread all over his body, as if he were being doused in hot and cold water at once, and he was experiencing the beginnings of a massive headache. After the feeling had subsided, the headache seemed only to intensify. Gripping his head with his hands, Draco focused on the dungeon floor until his head had cleared.

Then it hit him. The pumpkin juice this morning. The way he had found Blaise attractive. The way he had behaved towards Harry. Blaise had spiked his pumpkin juice with love potion, the son of banshee! Oh Merlin, no, Draco thought, sinking to the dungeon floor. Harry was never going to forgive him.

"You were looking too smitten by Mr Zabini just now," Slughorn explained, sympathizing with Draco, "So I decided to give you the antidote. Don't worry, we won't be brewing anything as potentially dangerous as Amortentia again."

Looking up at Slughorn, Draco forced what he hoped was a grateful smile, choked out a 'Thanks' and hurried back to his seat, feeling both miserable and furious.

He would catch up with Harry and try explaining to him once Potions was over. He would also have to have little a talk with Blaise on getting his priorities sorted out.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Chapter 9

DRACO  
Draco fidgeted impatiently in his seat, waiting for the stupid bell to ring so that he could find Harry. After an impossibly long time, the bell pealed, sending Draco out of his seat and the dungeon well before anyone else had even finished packing.

Draco didn't have to wait long before the rest of the class spilled out the door, Harry among them. Hurrying towards him, Draco tried summoning up his courage.

"Harry, listen, can I have a word with you?" he asked, stopping a few feet away, fearful of what close proximity with Harry might invoke.

"What more is there to say?" Harry spat at him, his green eyes flashing with fury, disappointment and malice all at once, as he turned and stalked off with Ron and Hermione.

"Wait, Harry!" Draco called, sprinting to keep up. "At least hear me out, will you?"

Harry stopped and faced him, and Draco took this as a good sign, even though Harry and his friends were all glaring at him, their arms crossed, their wands held loosely but firmly by their sides.

"Okay, this is what really happened," Draco began in what he hoped was a sincere voice, not wanting to betray the fear he was feeling. "Blaise slipped me a dose of Amortentia this morning at breakfast, so I had no control over myself, until Slughorn gave me the antidote in Potions. You have no idea how truly sorry I am, Harry." By the time he finished talking, Draco realized his eyes were moist, and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

Harry looked torn between wanting to believe him and not trusting him enough to. Ron and Hermione were not helping matters either, they were hissing at Harry, and both of them seemed to have contradicting opinions on the matter.

"...not trustworthy, Harry," Draco heard Ron say heatedly.

"...think he deserves a chance," Hermione whispered, giving Ron a look that clearly expressed her wish for him to stop talking. They promptly started bickering, leaving Harry and Draco standing very awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"Um, hello?" Draco said, deciding this would be a good time to intervene, "I'm still here."

"Yes, of course you are," Ron muttered, giving him a sarcastic eye-roll, though he nevertheless ceased arguing with Hermione.

Harry took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. Finally he blew out a long breath. "Look, Draco, I know you're telling the truth, I can see it in your eyes."

Before Draco could even begin feeling overjoyed that Harry believed him, the next words that came out of Harry's mouth sent him spiraling down into a deep abyss, quashing whatever shred of hope he'd been clinging to before.

"But just because you were honest with me once, doesn't mean you were telling the truth for the past two weeks, Draco," Harry said, his voice full of bitter disappointment and undisguised fury.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, though he had a feeling he knew, and it was not good.

"The Room of Requirement, Draco," Harry said sharply, his tone harsh, confirming Draco's hunch.

He tried playing dumb, "What about it?" he asked, in his most innocent voice.

"You know darn right what!" Harry suddenly yelled, losing his temper. "You're hiding something from me, Draco, and I intend to know what it is!"

"What made you think I was hiding anything?" Draco asked, in a somewhat defensive manner.

"Oh, let's see," Harry said, his voice now low and ferocious, "You never meet my eyes when we talk about the Room, you always change the subject when I ask you about it, and last night I saw you go in there after I'd gone!" His voice had risen to an unrestrained shout somewhere along the last sentence, and students passing by were gawping openly at them.

Draco tried formulating a response to that, but his brain, already slow from lack of sleep, would not function properly. "It's not what you think, Harry," he said pleadingly, his tone conveying his utter desperation.

"Then what was it, Malfoy?" Harry asked, voice trembling with suppressed anger.

Draco registered the renewed use of his surname. "It was...um...for the..." Draco stammered, at a loss for words. How could he explain it without giving away his secret? How could he tell Harry the truth, but not tell him the truth?

"Can't think of anything, can you, Malfoy?" Harry taunted, with a sneer worthy of a Malfoy. "I bet you were in the Room all the time with Zabini," he went on, growing angrier at the very thought, "Bet you two were in there all the time, hitting it off. Unless you have a better story as to what you were really doing in the Room?"

"That isn't what I'm using the Room for," Draco said, flinching under the furious scrutiny of Harry, "I-I can't tell you what I'm doing, Harry." he sighed dejectedly, wondering when his life had gotten so messed up. Oh right, when the Dark Lord had blackmailed him into becoming a Death Eater by threatening the extinction of the Malfoy bloodline.

"You know what, Malfoy?" Harry said through gritted teeth, "You obviously don't trust me enough to tell me the truth, and until you do, we're through." This last sentence seemed to cause Harry immense pain, and he closed his eyes as he said it, refusing to look at Draco.

"Okay," Draco said, trying to sound off-hand, and judging by the look on Harry's face, he had succeeded. "Just don't come crawling back, begging forgiveness, when you realize how terribly wrong and incredibly stupid you were," he said, giving Harry a malicious smirk, before turning and sweeping away in the opposite direction.

Once he'd rounded the corner, he slowed to a shuffle, barely aware of where his feet were taking him. Draco felt very lost, very empty and very alone. There was nothing good left in his life anymore. He'd only just realized that Harry had been the anchor that had kept him from drifting off into the vast ocean of despair and insanity. And now, with Harry gone, he was left adrift in his own sea of despair, while bordering on the brink of insanity.

Was he insane if he could wonder whether or not he was insane? Draco wondered. But it hardly mattered, nothing mattered anymore, it seemed. Harry hated him again, and the past two weeks would soon fade, become nothing more than mere memories of the happiest time Draco had ever had in his life. He tried to reassure himself that he couldn't have done anything, that nothing he said would have made an ounce of difference, that Harry would still have broken up with him sooner or later.

Draco was experiencing a wave of emotions in rapid succession. Loath at the Dark Lord for getting him into this mess, fear for his and his parents' lives if he failed, anxiety for Dumbledore if he should succeed, and fury at Harry for not trusting him. Obviously his mind could not capacitate that many emotions at once, and Draco felt tears welling up un his eyes, threatening to fall.

It wasn't his fault the Dark Lord had set him a task he was destined to fail, wasn't his fault that if he didn't do so he and his parents would be killed. And it most certainly was not his fault that Harry now hated him for doing his duty, for fulfilling his responsibility, for trying to save his parents.

If that was what Harry wanted to think, fine, he'd had enough of lying to people anyway. Harry would realize one day who was right and who was wrong. As Draco blinked furiously to stop the tears from flowing, he noticed where he was and stopped abruptly.

He was in a deserted bathroom. And not just any bathroom. A girls' one. Since when had a girls' bathroom become his secret hiding place? He wasn't given too long to dwell on that, however, because he had just noticed that he had company.

The ghost of a girl about sixteen or so, wearing her Hogwarts robe, was floating cross-legged in mid-air near the tops of the toilet stalls. She blinked rapidly at him from behind her thick, pearly glasses. "Hullo," she said, in a bored monotone, "This is a girl's toilet. You're not a girl." She peered over the tops of her glasses at him, as though that might make her see him better.

"Um, yeah," Draco mumbled sullenly, "Sorry. I'll get going then." With that he turned his back on her and moved to the door, only to find the ghost in his way. He frowned, not wanting to stick his hand through her to reach the door, and instead settled for crossing his arms against his chest and scowling heavily. "What now?" he griped, in no mood to strike up a conversation with a ghost in a girl's bathroom, of all places. "Did I dirty the purified sanctuary that is the girl's toilet with my male presence, or something?" he asked in his most sarcastic tone.

The ghost gave a sudden giggle, and her transparent cheeks seemed to flush a dull shade of gray. "No, that's not it," she said, stifling her giggle, "It's just – well, I'm Myrtle," she stuck out her hand, as though truly expecting him to shake it.

Draco arched an eyebrow at the see-through hand she was holding out, and promptly ignored it, which caused him another pang, as it reminded him all to painfully of that first non-handshake he and Harry had had on the Hogwarts Express. "And I'm going," Draco quipped, trying to find a spot that wasn't blocked by Myrtle and get the hell out of the bathroom.

"Don't leave!" Myrtle blurted out suddenly, her hand still raised. When Draco gave no response other than to arch his other eyebrow as well, she wrung her transparent hands together in despair. "I-I'm lonely," she admitted, flushing a darker shade of gray, as she lowered her gaze. "It's been so long since I had company," she went on, ignoring the furtive glances Draco kept shooting at the door, "Last time someone came in here was almost four years ago…" she trailed off, lost in memory.

"Well, that was interesting," Draco said, trying to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, because really, who cared about the ghost's social life? "But I really must get going, Myrtle, I'll see you around, then." He finally succeeded in finding a ghost-free spot, grabbed the door handle, and wrenched it open.

"Fine, go!" Myrtle exclaimed shrilly, and to Draco's horror, he saw ghostly tears trickling down her face. "I knew you wouldn't stay! No one ever does!" she prattled on, oblivious to the fact that he was inching closer to the exit. "First Tom Riddle, then Harry Potter, and now you! I don't even know your name!"

That caught Draco's attention. Hand still on the door, he let it slide shut, before going over to where Myrtle had drifted to near the sinks. At the sound of the door closing, she lifted her head from where she'd started bawling her eyes out, before her gaze settled back on him.

"You're still here," she said, turning it over in her head, "Why didn't you leave?" she asked, peering suspiciously at him as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Ignoring the question, Draco merely leant back on one of the sinks, and, not looking at Myrtle, said out of the corner of his mouth, "I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way." Merlin, he was dead. If anyone caught him socializing with a ghost – Draco shuddered inwardly at the thought.

Apparently Myrtle decided it would be for the best if she kept her mouth shut and didn't scare him off, so she let her query go unanswered. "So what brings you here, Draco?" she asked, in what she must have thought a simpering voice, but which only caused nothing more than the sparse hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"My feet?" Draco replied snidely, casting Myrtle an amused look. Clearly, something in the world had gone wrong. He was actually talking, and worse, _joking_, with a ghost. Draco hoped very much that this was nothing more than a bad dream.

Myrtle seemed to find something extremely hilarious about his snarky comment, and she doubled over, shaking with laughter. "You're funny," she finally managed, when her giggles had subsided. "But that's not what I meant."

"Nothing much, really," he said, as off-handedly as he could, "I was just – walking," he finished lamely. "So, you were saying something about Potter being here four years ago?"

"Oh, don't even talk to me about him!" she grumbled, her face scrunching in disgust. "He used to come in here all the time with his friends, and then he stopped coming. I visited him in his bath once, to ask him why he hadn't come. He said he would come back!" Myrtle finished angrily, glaring at nothing in particular.

It was odd, really, seeing as how the only thing Draco registered from Myrtle's rant was the fact that – "You visited him in his _bath_?" he blurted out, before clamping a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop himself from talking.

"Once, but that was two years ago," Myrtle replied dully, not seeming to find anything odd about Draco's interest on the matter. "But of course, he didn't come back. They never do." She seemed so upset that Draco couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. Just a bit, though. Imagine being stuck alone for four years in an abandoned toilet. Not something he would like very much.

"Ah, okay," Draco said, surprised to find he was actually feeling better after talking to Myrtle. Maybe it was the fact that she was also alone in something, and even if it wasn't the same kind of alone he was in, they still had something in common, at least. In any case, he didn't feel like he was on the brink of a break down or anything. That was a good thing, because honestly he didn't have the time for one.

"Well, it's been fun talking to you, Myrtle," Draco said, and truly meaning it, "But I have to go. I have lessons."

As he turned and made for the door again, he really wasn't all that surprised when there was a slight whooshing sound and Myrtle appeared in front of him, blocking his way again. "You'll come back, won't you?" she asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, I will," Draco replied without hesitation, "Don't worry. Not everyone is as unreliable as Potter." he added wryly, eliciting a reluctant giggle from Myrtle.

"Well, see you, Draco," she said wistfully, already seeming lonely, as she floated aside and left his way clear.

"See you," he said, stepping outside the bathroom without a backward glance.

He wasn't sure how, but he somehow knew that he would be back.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Chapter 10

HARRY

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" a familiar drawling voice sounded from behind him, and Harry spun around quickly to find Draco Malfoy standing there, Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him.

Harry had been pacing the length of the blank wall in agitation, trying desperately to get into the Room of Requirement and see what Draco had been doing in there all those times he vanished off the surface of the Marauder's Map, when Draco had shown up with his thuggish cronies.

A month had gone by since the Amortentia incident, and although Harry was inclined to overlook the fact that Draco had indeed been tricked by Blaise Zabini into drinking a dose of love potion, he wasn't ready to forget the many secrets the Slytherin had hid, and was still hiding, from him, especially those concerning the Room of Requirement.

And so it was that Harry had taken to obsessing over the Marauder's Map, trying to notice a pattern to Draco's almost daily disappearances from its surface. He had also taken to attempting to infiltrate the Room of Requirement by getting it to morph into the room it changed into whenever Draco went in there, but so far he had only turned up empty-handed. The Room didn't take kindly to infiltrators, apparently.

The past month had been a living nightmare. Draco seemed to get over relationships as easily as he got into them, and they had gone back to their adversarial enmity they had established for the first four years they'd spent as Hogwarts. Although they had had a temporary truce for the past couple of years, Harry rather thought their two weeks of dating and breaking up had crossed the line, and so they had switched from lovers to enemies again.

Their archrival relationship had started up again almost as soon as Draco had turned up after their fight in the dungeons. Although Draco had shown visibly less signs of hatred towards Harry then their initial years of knowing each other, the sneers and jibes were just as insulting as ever.

Worst of all was the part of Harry that still continually longed to reunite with Draco, even though his more rational part told him that trust was essential in a relationship. It didn't help either that whenever Draco so much as walked past him or threw a sneer his way, his heart skittered and his stomach plunged and did loop-the-loops. His comebacks to the insults thrown at him were so weak he eventually stopped commenting whenever Draco did so, much to the other boy's confusion. It seemed two years of an unspoken agreement not to fight, coupled with two weeks of dating, were not enough to deter Draco from tormenting Harry.

"_Potter!_" Draco snapped, and with a start, Harry pulled himself from his muddled up thoughts and very much addled brain back to the present.

"What?" he asked warily, all too aware of the intensity of those piercing gray eyes that were fixated on his own with a glare that could have wilted grass. Merlin, he had alluring eyes, Harry thought.

"What are you doing pacing a blank wall?" asked Draco, his tone half accusatory, half exasperation, and Harry got the impression this wasn't the first time the question had been directed at him.

"I was just – thinking," he supplied rather lamely, gesturing vaguely about him.

Draco's pale eyebrows arched elegantly, and the incredulous look on his face might have made Harry laugh under a different circumstance. "Thinking? Pacing a blank stretch of wall for the last hour nonstop is _thinking_?" he said scathingly, eyebrows rising higher.

"Um," Harry said, which was lately his favourite response to anything other than a direct yes or no question, "Uh…hang on, how did you even know I was here for an hour?" he asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him.

"Well…" for the first time in a very long time, it seemed, Draco was at a loss for words. His pale cheeks didn't go red, exactly, but they flushed a slight pink that Harry thought made him look hotter than ever, although he didn't voice that out loud.

"Been spying on me, Malfoy?" Harry shot at him, and was delighted to find shock cross the Slytherin's features before he smoothed his face into his usual unchanging mask of indifference.

"You wish, Potter," Draco sneered right back, "That was just a figure of speech. I've been here for less than a minute." That was an outright lie, Harry knew, but it rolled from Draco's mouth so smoothly it might as well have been as true as the truth one tells under Veritaserum.

"Whatever, Malfoy," he muttered tonelessly instead, abruptly turning and making his way down to the Great Hall to find Ron and Hermione. He half expected Draco to make a snappy retort to his cowardly retreat, but he didn't. When Harry next looked back, Draco and his cronies were gone. In their place were two first year girls talking animatedly to each other, one of them clutching a brass scale to her small chest.

Draco must have gone into the Room of Requirement then. There was no other explanation for it. Harry briefly debated reenacting second year by Polyjuicing himself into either Crabbe or Goyle and gain entrance to whatever Draco was doing in the Room, for Harry was fairly sure by now that it was something of utmost importance. In the end, he decided against it, seeing as there were far too many loopholes in that plan.

With a heavy sigh, Harry headed down into the Great Hall, spotted Ron and Hermione and went over to them. "Hey," he said by way of greeting, sliding into the empty seat beside Ron.

"Blimey, Harry, you look terrible," Ron proclaimed cheerfully, slapping him on the back. "What have you been doing?"

"I was – um, I was – studying," Harry said haltingly, suddenly becoming very interested in his pork chops.

Hermione gave a sniff of disapproval behind her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, which she was pursuing eagerly, her lunch barely touched.

"What's the matter with you?" Ron asked her, shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in days.

Snapping her book shut, Hermione gave Ron an appalled look at his table manners before turning to Harry. "You can't keep this up, Harry," she said, her eyes filled with nothing but concern for him.

The urge to ask 'Keep what up?' was overwhelming, but Harry knew exactly was Hermione was talking about – his obsession with Draco Malfoy. He rubbed at the shadows under his eyes tiredly. "I know," he muttered, not meeting her gaze.

"Harry, I know you miss Draco, but spying on someone is morally wrong," Hermione chided, "And sooner or later you're going to realize he's not coming back."

"I know, Hermione, I know," Harry said, massaging his temples with his hands. "It's just – I have to know what he's keeping from me, even if we're not – not together anymore." Merlin, how it had hurt when he'd said that, even though he kept his expression impassive, not wanting Ron and Hermione to see.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron said around a mouthful of pork chop, "We'll always be there for you, me and Hermione."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards his two best friends. He felt a lot better knowing there would always be somebody for him to confide in, for him to share with, for him to fall back on.

"Thanks, guys," he said quietly, "It means a lot to me."

DRACO

_Finally._ Draco almost shouted in triumph as he plucked the perfect, unblemished apple from the Vanishing Cabinet, lifting it higher to inspect in the dim lighting. As quickly as his spirits had rose, his heart sank, dropping all the way to the floor. There was a bite-sized chunk taken out of one side of the apple. It would not do for any one of the Death Eaters to have a chunk of flesh missing when they came to Hogwarts.

With a yell of frustration, Draco promptly threw the apple away from him, watching it soar over the cluttered knick-knacks before landing somewhere on the far side of the room.

Deciding that he'd had enough of the damn Cabinet for a day, Draco made his way back to the door. Knocking softly on it, he listened for either the telltale sound of Crabbe or Goyle tapping back at him, telling him the coast was clear, or the smashing of whatever they were holding, to indicate it wasn't safe.

Three sharp raps on the outside told Draco his way out was clear, and he quickly eased the door open and slipped out to rejoin the two first year girls that were Crabbe and Goyle.

Glancing at the two of them, dressed in witches' robes and Hogwarts skirts, Draco couldn't help but take his temper out on them a bit. "Nice skirt, Gloria," he threw at Goyle, "Love the robes, Cecilia," he said sardonically to Crabbe. He had insisted on picking the most girly and idiotic names for the two of them, not only for the sake of his cover, but also for his own entertainment at their discomfort.

In response to his insults, they muttered dully and shifted their feet, blinking foolishly up at him. Rolling his eyes, Draco turned away and strode off briskly, "Meet me back in the common room," he said over his shoulder, before striding purposefully to the library to see if he could do some research on the matter of matching Vanishing Cabinets.

It would be too late to head to his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson now, seeing as it would be over soon. Draco had been ditching a lot this year, thanks to the Dark Lord and the impossible task he'd set him. He also hadn't been minding his diet too well, and he figured he must have lost some weight, since his robes were looser than he remembered. But those were all minor irritations, seeing as when he finally managed to fix the blasted thing, he would either kill Dumbledore or be killed by the Dark Lord.

Draco tried not to cringe at the thought of being the murderer of the most powerful and respected wizard ever known, or at the thought of dying at the merciless hands of the Dark Lord and condemning his parents to that fate as well. It wasn't like he had a choice, because it was either kill or be killed. And Draco very much knew which option he preferred.

He had always looked up to his father and his role as a Death Eater when he was young and naïve, and had been raised to appreciate and accept the ways of the Dark Lord, but ever since he himself had been branded by the Dark Mark, he had only felt fear and loathing at the Dark Lord, which he had to keep masked under Occlumency whenever he was near the Dark Lord. He now wished fervently that he was not on the Dark Side after all.

Distracted and frustrated, Draco only realized where he was when he cared to look up from the ground, and it was definitely not the library. He was in a familiar-looking female lavatory. Myrtle's bathroom. It seemed his feet had a knack of taking him here whenever he was upset.

"Draco! You came back!" Myrtle called cheerily, swooping up from a stall to drift cross-legged on one of the sinks.

"Told you I'd come back," Draco said, managing a half-grin at her, leaning back against a sink, his arms crossed.

"I never thought you'd come back, you know," Myrtle confessed morosely, picking at a spot on her chin. "Nobody ever does," she said softly, her eyes brimming with tears behind her thick glasses.

Draco didn't know what to say to that, so he kept quiet. The silence wasn't awkward, it was kind of…companionable. He didn't know how long he sat there with Myrtle, but eventually he found his mind wandering, and he found himself thinking of one of his favorite daydream topics nowadays – Harry.

He hadn't wanted to distance himself from Harry like that, but in the end he'd decided it was best for the two of them. He would be able to get on with repairing the Vanishing Cabinet and figuring out a way of killing Dumbledore without Harry suspecting him, and Harry would be able to find someone he could be happy with. King Weasel, maybe, they were such good friends. Or Longbottom, the brainless twit. Anyone else but him. He didn't deserve Harry.

As always, Draco hid his hurt through an uncaring façade. He'd had years of practice perfecting his mask of indifference, at keeping his emotions locked up inside, while his face was coolly composed. Even so, he'd found sneering or glaring at Harry very difficult indeed, when all he wanted was to press his mouth against those velvet soft lips, to lose himself in those emerald green eyes, to finger a lock of that unruly black hair –

"Draco?" Myrtle's concerned voice broke through his inner rambling. "Are you – are you alright?" she asked hesitantly, peering blearily at him.

The words "I'm fine" were on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn't form. What came out instead was a whispered "No."

When Myrtle continued gazing at him, Draco suddenly realized he was expected to elaborate. Clearing his throat, he tried telling as much of the truth as he could. "I'm in a bit of a dilemma," he said flatly, "A – a friend of mine wants me to help him do – do something, and I don't want to. But the thing is, if I don't do it, I'll be risking me and my parents' lives. And I – I don't know what to do, Myrtle."

He wasn't even sure why he was telling Myrtle all this, maybe it was because he had no one left to turn to, no one left to confide in, because no one cared about him. He did consider Crabbe and Goyle his close friends, but the sad truth was they were dim, and probably wouldn't help very much. Pansy was too much of a gossip to risk telling her anything, he was still too mad at Blaise, and Harry was no longer an option any more.

He barely heard the condolences and suggestions Myrtle was giving him. There was an odd ringing in his ears and his eyes felt very moist. Deciding it would be pointless to hide the tears, he let them flow freely down his face, his body heaving with his wracked sobs. Gripping the edges of the sink, he broke down completely, his mixed up feelings in turmoil.

When the tears showed no sign of stopping after awhile, Draco attempted to stem the flow with his sleeve. Glancing at the mirror above the sink, he froze.

Harry Potter was standing at the far side of the bathroom looking at him.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	11. Chapter 11

HARRY

Squinting down at the Maurauder's Map, Harry couldn't believe his eyes. There was Draco in the second-floor bathroom. But what was Moaning Myrtle doing there? Unable to resist the urge to investigate, since he was bloody obsessed with Draco, Harry sprinted down to the abandoned lavatory and eased the door open gently.

Draco was standing at one of the sinks, his back to the door, his hands gripping either side of it, his white-blonde head bowed.

"Don't," Myrtle's voice crooned, as she drifted to float beside Draco. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

"No one can help me," said Draco, his whole body shaking. "I can't do it…I can't…it won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…"

Harry realized with shock that Draco was crying, tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. His body heaved with wracking sobs that he couldn't seem to suppress, and after a great deal of gasping and gulping, Draco lifted his head and looked up into the cracked mirror to find Harry standing there.

For a split second that seemed to last for eternity, the two boys stared at each other. Harry got his first good look at Draco, and was sickened and shocked by what he saw. Draco looked terrible, his pale face was drawn and pinched, with dark shadows under his eyes, which were red from crying, and he looked thinner and more tired than Harry had ever seen him. In fact, with his pale and pallid complexion, he looked like an underfed vampire, which was saying something, as vampires were supposed to be thin.

Harry barely had time to dwell on the fact that Draco looked half-starved to death, when he was shaken out of his reverie. Moving with a speed Harry couldn't quite follow, Draco whirled around, drawing his wand. Reacting instinctively, Harry drew his own wand. Draco's hex missed him by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him. Harry threw himself sideways, thought _Levicorpus!_ and flicked his wand, but Draco blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another –

"No! No! Stop it!" Myrtle squealed, her voice echoing loudly around the deserted bathroom. "Stop! STOP!"

With a loud bang, the bin behind Harry exploded. Ducking, Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Draco and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly as water poured everywhere and Harry slipped over as Draco, his face contorted, cried "Cruci–"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry bellowed from his spot on the floor, waving his wand wildly, the incantation he'd seen from the Prince's Potions textbook coming easily to him, as he remembered the inscription below it labeled 'For enemies'.

He didn't bother considering that he didn't want Draco harmed, all he knew and cared about was that Draco had been about to hit him with the Cruciatus Curse, and whatever history there might have been between them was lost, over. The attempt at an Unforgivable aimed at him had made him an enemy, and _Sectumsempra_ was the first thing he recalled that was associated with enemies.

The spell hit its mark. Blood spurted from Draco's face and chest as though he had been slashed by an invisible sword. Harry could only watch, horrorstruck, as he staggered backwards and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

"No –" Harry could only gasp.

DRACO

Pain. His world was a haze of red. Agony. His vision was swimming, turning black. Anguish. He could feel his own blood, pooling around him, sickeningly warm and wet at the same time. Pain, agony, and anguish all at once.

Why wasn't he dead yet? Why wasn't the pain going away? Was he on his way to hell? Was he already in hell? That would explain the unendurable agony flaring from his midriff, spreading to every fiber of his being, hurting him.

But unless he was mistaken, being dead was supposed to be painless, and right now he was anything but. So that must mean he was still alive. What a comforting notion. He could still feel, which was something he did not want to be able to do right now. He would much rather have lapsed into a coma into blissful oblivion than deal with the pain.

If he was hurt on the surface, it was nothing compared to what he was experiencing inside. His heart, which had only recently healed after their break-up, felt as though it were being pierced with hundreds of knives and torn apart viciously. It wouldn't have mattered if it were anyone else. But this was _Harry_. _Harry_ had done this to him, had caused him this pain, had made him suffer this agony, had made him go through this anguish.

He wanted to tell Harry he was sorry for trying to hex him, sorry for attempting the Cruciatus Curse on him. He wasn't even sure why he'd tried doing it. It wouldn't have worked anyway. He had never been able to cast any of the Unforgivables except the Imperius. He didn't even know why he had attacked Harry. He had just been so terrified of what Harry might have overheard, about his task, about his parents, that he'd acted impulsively and irrationally.

But given the state he was in, he couldn't very well manage an apology. So he lay there in a pool of his own blood, feeling more seep from his chest and face, trying hard to concentrate on his own ragged breathing and not on the pain. Anything but the pain.

From someplace far above him he heard Harry gasp a strangled 'No!' and heard Myrtle screech 'MURDER!' Then suddenly Harry's face was there, those enticing green eyes wide and horrified behind those ridiculous glasses, and Draco locked gazes with him, clinging to consciousness, fighting the urge to slip into Death's embrace, which seemed like a mercy if it meant the pain would go away.

Draco didn't know how long they stared at each other, his own pain-filled grey into horror-struck green, before he felt the edges of his vision blurring and his awareness slipping. Closing his eyes for awhile seemed like such a good idea…and he was tired…so very tired… His eyelids felt heavy, surely he could take a nap and deal with the pain later…he was so tired…his eyes were closing…

Then Harry stumbled as if shoved aside, and Draco could only make out a familiar sallow face frowning down at him in Harry's place – Snape. He was tracing his wand in the air above him and muttering, and instantly Draco felt the flow of his blood cease, felt the wounds in his chest and face knit together as Snape healed him.

The pain was still there, but it was considerably less now, and after another two rounds of the healing spell, Draco found he could function rather well. At least he could see and hear better now. Snape half-lifted him into a standing position, supporting most of his weight, as he turned to him and said, "You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that…come…"

Draco let himself be led across the bathroom by Snape, sagging inelegantly against him since his feet still would not support him. At the door, he felt Snape turn back and say in voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter…you wait here for me."

Snape half-supported, half-carried him up to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey promptly came bustling over and practically forced a measure of potion down his throat. He was lowered onto a vacant bed by Snape, while Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over him in a complicated pattern.

"How did he get mixed up in this nature of Dark Magic, Severus?" he heard Madam Pomfrey ask quietly.

"It was accidentally invoked by a careless student, I believe," Snape replied just as softly.

"Who?" Madam Pomfrey breathed, her eyes wide.

"Harry Potter," was Snape's curt reply.

"Harry Potter?" she asked incredulously, her wand coming to a halt in the air above Draco.

"Yes," Snape's voice was icy. "Do me a favor, Poppy, and don't tell the Headmaster about this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." With a nod in his direction, Snape turned and swept from the room.

Draco now felt more confused than ever. What did he have to do with any of this? Why didn't he want Dumbledore to know about it? Was it anything to do with helping him in his task to kill Dumbledore? Hadn't Draco told him he didn't need his help? So many unanswered questions were swirling around in his head, it made him light-headed and dizzy.

He remembered, all too well, their conversation before Christmas, when Snape had offered him help, and he had refused it, thinking Snape wanted to steal his glory by assisting him or killing Dumbledore. That had been a more ignorant time, when Draco had had hope that he might succeed in his task, and restore honor to the Malfoy family name. But now he knew better. He was on a suicide mission, and he knew it.

There really was no hope left, and he would cause Snape's death as well, seeing as he had undertaken the Unbreakable Vow with his mother. Just what he needed, another death caused by his failure, on top of his own and his parents'. He could only hope that when he eventually managed to fix the Cabinet and let the Death Eaters in, that he could screw up the courage to kill Dumbledore.

His musings were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey handing him a pair of pajamas and pulled curtains around his bed, saying, "Change out of those blood-stained rags of yours and get some sleep, Mr Malfoy."

So he did. He got quite a shock when he saw the scar on his chest, a jagged line that extended from his left shoulder all the way across to his right hipbone. It jutted out somewhere along his ribs before resuming its course, making the scar look like a lightning bolt. How ironic. He had a scar to match Harry's. To his immense relief, the slash on his cheek left only a very pale scar that wasn't too noticeable, due to his naturally pale complexion. That was something to be grateful for, at least.

Deciding he might as well get some rest, Draco flopped onto the bed, exhausted. It wasn't long before he closed his eyes and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

_The Dark Lord was laughing, those cruel red eyes burning into him. "You will do well in your task, Draco, or you and your family shall face my wrath." he hissed softly, before raising his wand and pressing it into his left inner forearm._

_ Pain exploded in him as he fought to remain soundless, biting his tongue and tasting blood in his mouth. When the searing pain was gone, Draco looked down and saw the Dark Mark etched deeply into his flesh, the snake protruding from the skull leering evilly up at him._

_ "Yes, my – my Lord" he stammered in response, resisting the urge to yank his arm out of the Dark Lord's grasp._

_ The pale, spidery hand on his arm changed, becoming more familiar. Draco looked up into startling green and messy black hair. Harry laughed and kissed him, pulling him close, his hands stroking his hair, his tongue gently probing his own. He felt his defenses melt as he kissed back, running his hands gently through the shock of untidy hair –_

_ Then Harry was yanked away from him, and Draco looked up into the terrifying face of the Dark Lord, who leered down at him and stepped aside, revealing a horrifying scene._

_ He was in a graveyard. His parents were there. Harry was there. The Dark Lord was raising his wand deliberately slowly. "You have failed me, Draco," he said softly, "And I do not take kindly to failures."_

_ "CRUCIO!" His father's scream pierced the night and Draco's heart as he crumpled in a heap, twitching. "CRUCIO!" Now his mother was shrieking and Draco was yelling too, begging the Dark Lord to stop, he would do anything, anything – "CRUCIO!" Harry's yell seemed to wrench his heart out as he collapsed on the ground, unmoving._

_ With an anguished cry, Draco threw himself at the Dark Lord's feet and begged him to spare their lives, to torture only him, kill only him – "Get up, Draco," the high, cold voice said from above him._

_ Staggering to his feet, he looked into merciless red eyes, saw the thin mouth move to form words, and saw the bright green flash –_

Draco sat bolt upright in bed, shivering, drenched in sweat. It took him awhile to realize it had all been a particularly bad dream. He had been having the same nightmare over and over for the past few months. The only different thing was the addition of Harry. It was usually just his parents the Dark Lord was torturing.

Burying his head in his pillow, trying to block out the nightmarish scenes of his parents and Harry being tortured, trying not to hear their agonized screams reverberating in his ears, Draco eventually felt himself drifting off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. Chapter 12

HARRY

"For the last time, Hermione, I didn't know what that spell was," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Hermione pursed her lips but didn't say anything, and frowned disapprovingly down at him, where he was sprawled on the floor of the common room, poring over the Half-Blood Prince's Potions textbook, Ron playing chess against himself by his side.

It had been nearly a week since the episode in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Hermione was still pestering him about the Prince's Potions book. For Harry had firmly refused to part with it, even though the _Sectumsempra_ incident had earned him a year's worth of weekend detentions with Snape.

It bothered a lot more than he let on, the fact that he had used Dark magic of that nature against Draco. He was thinking about Draco again. Lately that seemed to be all he ever did. Everything he thought about would always go back to Draco. It was becoming more than a mere obsession of his. He had taken to evolving his life around Draco.

Harry wondered why Draco hadn't murdered him yet. He had, after all, almost killed him with that spell. What horrified him most was that he _wanted_ Draco to come after him, if only to yell at him or try to hex him. The inevitable truth was that Harry still wanted Draco, and if he didn't do something about that soon he would go mad with desire.

He had wanted desperately to apologize, but that was turning out to be a problem, since Draco had gone from mocking him to ignoring him completely. It was as though Harry didn't even exist, and that hurt more than the insults he used to throw his way. He supposed he couldn't really complain, seeing as how Draco had almost died because of him, but that didn't really stop him from wanting, no, needing to talk to Draco, and sort this all out.

"Harry!" Ron's voice snapped him out of his delirium.

"What?" he asked, arranging his face into what he hoped was a composed expression that wouldn't give away he was having very inappropriate thoughts about one Draco Malfoy.

"D'you want to go down for Quidditch practice or not?" Ron asked, throwing him a bemused look.

"Um, yeah, okay," Harry muttered, "Let me just get my broom." He dashed upstairs to their dormitory, feeling inexplicably glad for a reason to get out of the castle for a bit.

After having located his Firebolt, he shouldered it and headed back down to meet Ron in the common room. They traipsed down to the pitch in silence, Ron occasionally throwing furtive glances in his direction.

They stopped just outside the changing rooms, Ron turned to face him. "What's up with you, Harry?" he asked in a low voice, as though afraid someone might overhear.

Harry glanced up quickly. "Nothing," he heard himself say, lying straight through his teeth.

"C'mon, Harry, we've known each other for six _years_," said Ron exasperatedly, "I can tell when something's wrong, mate."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, before turning and stalking into the changing rooms.

"If you say so," Harry heard Ron mutter indistinctly, before joining him in the changing room.

When they had both pulled on their scarlet robes and marched out to join the other Gryffindor Quidditch team members, the sky overhead had turned a dark, ominous grey. The same grey as Draco's eyes whenever he was pissed. Mentally shaking himself, Harry clamped down on Draco-related thoughts and focused instead on telling his team members about the flying techniques they were going to use today.

He was interrupted by Ginny, who was pointing at something on the other end of the pitch. "What?" he asked her, slightly irritated.

"Someone's decided to join us for practice," she replied grimly, her eyes flashing dangerously, giving him the blazing look he used to find so fierce and endearing before…well, before Draco.

Speak of the devil. Draco Malfoy and the Slytherin Quidditch team were strolling across the field towards them, and Harry had a sense of déjà vu as he remembered second year.

"Well, well, well…look who's here," Draco drawled lazily, flicking his eyes over the Gryffindors. "The Gryffindorks and their Chosen Captain, the Boy Who Scored." His cool grey eyes came to rest on his own, and Harry was staggered by the amount of contempt and loathing in them, before he had the sense to avert his gaze.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Ron said from beside Harry, glowering at him. "We need to practice."

"Oh, so do we," Draco shot back. "Don't worry, Weasel, the pitch is big enough for both of our teams."

Ron bristled at the use of the nickname before clenching his fists, "We booked the pitch for today."

"Well, what's stopping you from using it?" Draco asked conversationally, before mounting his broom and soaring off. The rest of the Slytherins sniggered heartily as they, too, mounted their brooms and took off.

"C'mon guys," Harry muttered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and the hatred in Draco's eyes a while ago. "Let's go. Practice over."

As he turned and made his way back to the changing rooms, an arm shot out and stopped him. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Ron asked, glaring at him now.

"Going to change," Harry said dully, trying to push past Ron and get to the changing rooms.

"Are you seriously going to let Malfoy get away with that?" Ron demanded, not relinquishing his grip on Harry's arm.

"Get away with what?" Harry asked, feeling tense and annoyed at Ron for no particular reason.

"Sabotaging our Quidditch prac–"

"Look, I don't give a damn about Quidditch practice, okay?" Harry found himself yelling. "Just leave me alone, will you?"

Freeing himself from Ron, Harry bolted for the changing rooms and locked himself in, leaning back against the door, feeling very confused and afraid, ignoring the pounding on the other side of the door, telling him to open up.

He couldn't forget the way Draco had regarded him, those silver eyes no longer mocking, but filled with an intense hatred and loathing at him. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it, but he couldn't help wishing things could go back to the way they were before the bathroom incident.

Draco insulting him at every turn was far more preferable than Draco pretending he didn't exist. At least he had an excuse to talk to Draco then, if it was only to formulate lame comebacks. Now he couldn't talk to Draco at all, and he couldn't deny to himself that he didn't want to.

If only he had a Time-Turner…he would be able to erase the _Sectumsempra_ incident, maybe even the fight in the dungeons…then he and Draco would still be going out…But no good would come out of that, Harry knew meddling with time was illegal and potentially dangerous. Sirius and Buckbeak had been an exception. He couldn't very well hope to change every mistake he'd made by going back in time.

With a sigh, Harry figured he owed Ron an apology. Unlocking the door, he opened it and found Ron, sopping wet and shivering. Harry blinked, wondering when it had started raining.

"About time, mate," Ron told him, grinning amiably as though nothing had happened, "I was freezing to death!" He plodded into the changing room, leaving muddy trails on the floor.

"Look – Ron, I'm sorry I – I shouldn't have yelled," said Harry, attempting to flatten his hair out of habit and failing miserably.

"It's okay, Harry," Ron shrugged, "So you've got a lot on your mind right now, I get it. We'll have plenty of other opportunities to crush those underhanded snakes, right?"

"Right," Harry said, giving him a tentative grin, and feeling immensely relieved when it was returned.

The rest of the Gryffindor team spilled into the changing room, and it became apparent they had been eavesdropping, but Harry didn't care. After everyone else had changed and gone, only he and Ron were left.

"You go on," Harry told him, "I'll meet you back in the common room."

With a rather worried look at Harry, Ron nodded and exited the changing room. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and headed over to the shower stalls. He could really do with a long, hot shower before going back to the castle and dealing with Hermione's nagging, his impressive pile of homework and his unfortunate fascination with Draco.

Half an hour later, Harry was feeling a lot better. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower cubicle and promptly collided with someone. Ramming his glasses back on his nose, Harry saw who he'd run into and tried to hide his embarrassment.

Draco was standing less than a foot away, his own towel wrapped precariously low around the hips, fixing him with a glare that had him frozen in place. "Watch where you're going, Potter," he snapped, shoving Harry aside as he strode into the changing room.

They were the only ones left in the changing room now. Harry trudged after him slowly, trying very hard not to reveal that he was having a raging hard on just by seeing the exposed flesh of Draco's back.

Draco turned and caught him staring, before Harry had the sense to avert his eyes elsewhere and not look sheepish. His eyes were instead drawn to the jagged scar that slashed diagonally from Draco's left shoulder all the way to his right hipbone.

"Is that where –?" he asked, his throat tightening at the prospect that _he _had done that to Draco, that _he _had hurt him that way.

"Yes, and it even resembles a lightning bolt," Draco said without humor, "Ironic, isn't it, Potter? I just realized I've never thanked you properly for it, have I? It's an honor, really, to have a scar that looks just like the one the great Harry Potter has."

Harry cast around for words to say. "I – I'm sorry," he said, looking anywhere but at Draco. "I didn't mean for it to –"

But Draco cut him off. "It doesn't matter what you meant to happen, Potter, what's done is done. You can't change that."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered again, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm sorry doesn't begin to cover permanent disfiguration, Potter," Draco said bitterly, "Though I suppose I should be glad I'm alive. Thanks for not killing me, by the way." His voice was dripping with so much sarcasm and venom Harry wanted to follow his gut instinct and run away.

"Sorry…" Harry managed, realizing he was holding back tears and had a lump in his throat. "I'm really sorry, Draco. I didn't – I didn't know what that spell was going to do, I read about it but I thought it was only going to be something mild like a Full-Body Bind. I panicked when you started to use the Cruciatus, and that was the first spell I could come up with."

Draco was staring at him, his expression unreadable. When the scrutiny was making Harry squirm with discomfort, Draco seemed to find his tongue again. "I don't know why I started to use the Cruciatus Curse," he said slowly, "It wouldn't have worked anyway, I can't do it."

Harry was feeling dumbstruck as he groped around in the recesses of his mind for something to say in response. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked after a moment's pause.

"I dunno," Draco shrugged, his shoulders lifting elegantly, "I thought I owed you an explanation, I guess."

"What would you owe me for?" Harry heard himself ask incredulously. "I'm the one who almost killed you!"

"You do have a point," Draco quipped, glancing coolly at Harry, "Are you saying you'd prefer it if I pressed charges and got you hauled off to be tried by the Wizengamot?"

Harry flushed, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. Damn his big mouth. "No, this is fine," he said instead.

"Good," said Draco shortly, before turning and reaching for his school robes.

As Harry crossed over to where his own robes lay beside Draco's, he suddenly discovered they were in each other's personal spaces. He really wasn't quite sure what happened next, but there was hardly any space left between them, and Draco's lips were mere inches from his own, his silver eyes gazing intently at him.

Harry didn't know who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing, and his fingers had found Draco's soft platinum hair, and Draco had pressed his hands on the small of his back, drawing him closer. There was a heat tingling in his lower belly as their lips met, tongues sweeping against each other, making him weak-kneed and light-headed.

It felt so _good_, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed Draco until now, and he couldn't quite get enough of him, get close enough. Draco broke the kiss gently before moving his mouth down to his neck, doing something very interesting to it with his tongue that sent shivers up his spine and made him moan. Harry could practically _feel_ his smirk as Draco proceeded to trail feather-light kisses up his neck, ending up back at his mouth.

The kiss lasted for as long as their oxygen supplies would allow, and when they eventually broke off this time, they were both gasping for air. Then Draco arched one perfect eyebrow at Harry and asked, "What was that for?"

"Uh – I'm sorry?" Harry tried again, still panting from the oxygen deprivation.

Draco flashed him a grin, saying, "Apology accepted," before pulling him in for another kiss.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	13. Chapter 13

DRACO

"Why didn't you do your Potions essay last night, then?" Blaise asked, watching Draco attempt to finish both the essay and his breakfast at the same time. (He and Blaise were on friendly terms again, due to the fact that he had gotten back at Blaise by slipping him a potion that had made him have lewd thoughts about everyone from Snape to the Giant Squid, and which had resulted in Blaise almost having sex with a house-elf.)

"I was busy last night," Draco muttered, his face flushing as he turned back to the essay.

"Oh, I see," Blaise chuckled, giving his shoulder a pat and flashing Draco a knowing look. "You were with Potter, weren't you?"

"I was not!" Draco protested, feeling the heat spreading to his ears, as he gave up on the essay for the moment and set down his quill. "And why do you care? Are you jealous of Potter, by any chance?" he smirked, flashing Blaise a wicked grin.

"No I'm not!" Blaise shot back, shooting him a glare, "I'm going out with Zacharias, didn't you know?" he added smugly.

"What-?" Draco gasped, choking on his pumpkin juice. "You and _Smith_ are dating? Why the bloody hell would you date _him_?"

"He's smart, cute and has a way better sense of humor than you," Blaise said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Draco.

"Well, it's nice to see you've finally found someone who can tolerate you, Blaise," he drawled in a superior tone, punching him lightly on the arm. "It would have pained me awfully to see you mooning over me for the rest of the year when I'm dating Harry."

"Yeah, I guess we're better off friends anyway," Blaise replied, before leering evilly, "So what were you doing last night, if you weren't off with Potter?"

"I was – that is to say – I had – I had other priorities that required dealing with," Draco mumbled under his breath, not meeting Blaise's eyes.

"Sure you did," said Blaise, smirking, "I bet your priorities had something to do with being in Potter's bed." He then ducked, laughing, as Draco launched his ink pot at him.

Unfortunately for Draco, the ink pot sailed far above its intended target and landed on the head of tiny Professor Flitwick, who happened to be passing the Slytherin table. With a frightened squeak like a mouse, Flitwick jumped, sending ink spilling all over his hair and the pot rolling to the floor.

"Who did that?" Flitwick asked angrily, glaring up at the Slytherins. As one, Draco, Blaise, and a few others pointed at the nearest person in the vicinity who wasn't in Slytherin. The terrified Hufflepuff first-year didn't even protest as she was forced to apologize for something she hadn't done, and Flitwick gave her detention before scurrying off to wash the ink from his hair.

"Nice save," Harry said from behind him, before he plopped down onto the bench beside Draco and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks," Draco replied as he grinned, pointedly ignoring Blaise's snickers and swooning impressions. "We Slytherins like to stick together."

Harry snorted, "Slytherins are bloody cowards who can't own up to what they've done." He gave Draco a pointed stare.

"Ouch," Draco flailed dramatically, clutching his chest, "That hurt, Harry, that hurt real deep." He gave Harry his best innocent-victim look.

Harry laughed, not seeming able to resist himself, and shook his head, grinning. "I haven't done mine either," he said, gesturing at Draco's abandoned Potions essay. "D'you know what the seven properties of moonstone are?"

Before Draco could tell him, Blaise rejoined the conversation, cutting off his reply. "I suppose you had 'priorities' last night as well, Potter?" Blaise asked, making air quotes around 'priorities' and deftly avoiding Draco's sharp jab to his ribs.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did," Harry replied rather stiffly. (He still hadn't quite forgiven Blaise for the Amortentia incident.) "And it's none of your business, Zabini. What I did last night is between me and Draco."

At this, Draco groaned loudly, and briefly contemplated flinging a dozen bread rolls at Harry to shut him up. "He didn't know, you idiot!" he hissed at Harry, narrowing his eyes. Then he rounded on Blaise, "And just because we're dating doesn't mean we shag every night! Do _you_ and Smith shag every night, Blaise?"

Blaise chose to ignore his question, and instead quirked one eyebrow at him, "But you shag every other night?" he asked, smirking.

"Yes, yes, we shag every other night, okay?" Draco said through clenched teeth, "Now will you drop it and let me finish my Potions essay?"

"Fine, I won't bother you two lovebirds," said Blaise, getting to his feet and going over to the Hufflepuff table to find Smith.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, gazing worriedly at him, those charming green eyes filled with worry, that sensual mouth curved down slightly in a pout. As if he could stay mad when Harry was giving him a look like that.

"It's fine," he shrugged, giving Harry an easy smile, "It's not like Blaise will know the truth."

The truth was that he and Harry didn't shag every night, they shagged whenever they felt like it, and they almost _always_ felt like it. At least they now had Blaise thinking they only did it every other night.

Harry gave him a playful smirk, "True, that."

"Right, the properties of moonstone," Draco said, remembering the urgent problem at hand. "Here, copy mine." He shoved his own essay towards Harry, who quickly began writing.

The bell signaling the start of morning classes rang just then, and the two of them made their way towards the dungeons, Draco feeling slightly guilty about not finishing his homework.

They sat down in their usual seats, Harry with Ron and Hermione, Draco with Blaise and Pansy. Snape swept in a minute later and faced the class. (Slughorn had called in sick for a week, and now Snape was teaching Potions as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts.)

"Your essays are due today," he began softly but menacingly, "Anyone who fails to submit their work will be punished most severely, given that you have had almost a week to work on this particular essay."

Why did Snape have to pick today to be harsh on those who didn't hand in their work? It was so unfair, he hardly every missed turning in his work. Draco watched with detached interest as everyone else but him and Harry got up and deposited their essays on Snape's desk, where he began counting them.

"Potter," he breathed, leering triumphantly at Harry, who glared stonily back. Snape resumed counting, before saying in a slightly confused tone, "Draco."

"Give me one good reason you didn't complete your essay," Snape snapped, alternating between death glares at Harry and glares at Draco.

"Apparently, they both had priorities last night," Blaise stage-whispered to Pansy. Most unfortunately, Snape overheard him.

"And what priorities might they be, Potter?" Snape asked silkily, his eyes boring into Harry. And Draco realized what he was doing far too late. He was using Legilimency on Harry, who probably didn't even know how to clear his mind properly, let alone defend it.

Abruptly, Snape looked away from Harry and turned to Draco, who imagined an impenetrable brick wall and tried his best to seal his mind. Snape frowned and went back to penetrating Harry's mind. After a while, his thin mouth curved upward in a grim, satisfied smile.

"Ah, it appears our Chosen Hero has had no time to pursue his academic studies due to his unusual sexual proclivities." said Snape, casting an amused glance at Draco, who flushed furiously as the class snickered as one, before he continued to glower at Harry.

"Well, in that case…I think it befitting that Potter and Draco work together in detention this weekend, since they were so keen on doing everything else together," Snape continued, his lip curling as he surveyed the humiliation on both their faces with morbid interest. "Yes, it ought to serve as a reminder to all of you what happens when you slack off to get more _shagging_ time."

Draco could practically feel the heat wafting off him at his embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, "It won't happen again." He heard Harry mutter the same thing.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for lack of responsibility and unwise planning of homosexual shagging," Snape barked, earning a great deal of muttering and protests from the Gryffindors.

"And twenty points to Slytherin because I see no reason to blame Draco for Potter's peculiarities," Snape finished. Ron actually had to be restrained by Hermione to keep him from leaping up and confronting Snape at this. It was rare for him to show this much favoritism, and it confused Draco as much as it pleased him.

The rest of Potions passed uneventfully, unless he counted Longbottom melting his fifth cauldron that week and Finnigan blowing up his sixth. By lunchtime, Draco felt weary and drained, as he made his way up to the seventh floor to tackle the Vanishing Cabinet once more.

HARRY

"That foul, loathsome, greasy git!" Ron said feelingly, chomping on a chicken leg. He had spent lunch coming up with names for Snape, most of which would earn him a reproachful glare worthy of Mrs Weasley from Hermione.

"Now we won't be able to train on Saturday," Harry complained, banging his forehead on _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_, which was resting on top of the table. "We have a match against Slytherin next week, too!"

"It's only two days, mate," said Ron bracingly, "You'll still have five more days to train before the match."

"I suppose," Harry groaned, lifting his head from the book. "You and the others will train over the weekend, right?" he asked Ron anxiously.

"Course we will," Ron said cheerily, attacking his third drumstick, "Wouldn't do to lose to those twisted snakes, would it?"

"They're not all bad," Harry said defensively, thinking of Draco. "Some of them are quite nice."

"I assume by 'some of them' you mean Malfoy," Hermione interjected dryly, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Come on, Harry, just because you and Malfoy are together doesn't mean he's suddenly all perfect and angelic," said Ron reasonably, "He is in Slytherin, after all."

"And what was that supposed to mean, Weasley?" Draco drawled, sliding down to sit beside Harry.

"Nothing," Ron muttered, "Just that Slytherins are a nasty bunch of gits," he added under his breath.

Draco heard him, of course. "I could say the same thing about you Gryffindors," he sneered, reaching out and stealing a potato wedge from Harry's plate.

"Funny thing to say, since you're dating one," said Hermione, giving him a frosty look.

Draco shrugged easily in response and proceeded to tell Harry about the details for the detention they had on the weekend. "Snape says we're to meet him at seven in the dungeons on both nights."

"Okay," Harry said without interest. "Where were you just now?" he asked instead, keeping his eyes on his plate.

"Potions, you were there, remember?" Draco replied, though Harry thought he saw him tense a bit.

"No, I meant after Potions, before you showed up here," said Harry, still refusing to let Draco off.

"I went to the bathroom," was Draco's curt reply, and Harry saw his knuckles tighten and whiten.

"Oh, alright then," he said, now more certain than ever that Draco was keeping something from him, and he intended on finding out just what.

Ron and Hermione had followed this exchange with bewildered expressions, and they both struggled to keep their faces impassive when Harry and Draco fell silent.

"I think I'll head to the library," Hermione announced abruptly, "Coming, Ron?"

"What-? Oh, yeah, sure," Ron said, rubbing at the spot she had elbowed him in.

They left, leaving Harry and Draco alone at the Gryffindor table, and Harry had a sudden compelling urge to run after them, so he wouldn't have to face Draco.

"Finished training yet?" he asked into the sudden silence, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Finished training for what?" Draco said confusedly, shooting Harry a suspicious look.

"The upcoming match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin," said Harry, thinking it should have been more than obvious.

"Oh, that," Draco said, sounding more than relieved, "Mm-hm. Sure. It should be fun, competing against each other."

"Yeah," Harry intoned, "Real fun."

"Is that a hint of sarcasm I detect, Potter?" Draco asked, smirking playfully as he leaned closer and kissed him rather heatedly.

The kiss deepened to a rather more intimate level, and Harry had to exercise an enormous amount of self-restraint as he pulled back slightly. "We're not making out in public, Draco," he hissed as the blonde continued to tug at his collar, "I thought we agreed on that."

"Fine, we'll do it somewhere else," said Draco, grinning mischievously at him, his grey eyes sparkling with delight.

"But Snape told us to mind our –" Harry stopped short, not sure how to put it.

"Our shagging sessions?" Draco filled in, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "I don't know about you, but I don't give a damn as to what Snape says."

"But what about –" Harry cut himself off as Draco hauled him to his feet and dragged him out of the Great Hall and into a broom cupboard. There was barely enough space for the two of them, and Harry was suddenly very aware of their proximity. He swallowed, and reminded himself to breathe.

He inhaled, and was instantly met with the strong scent of Draco's aftershave and cologne. It was a very heady mixture, alluring and enticing, and Harry breathed it in deeply. Draco shifted forward, and bent to nuzzle his neck, his breath cool against his warm skin.

"You were saying?" Draco asked huskily, mouth moving up to his face.

"I – I –" Harry struggled to come up with a lucid sentence, but it was made difficult by the fact that Draco had just started nibbling gently on his ear lobe, pulling it lightly with his teeth before flicking his tongue over it.

"Yes?" Draco breathed, pulling back to meet his gaze, his eyes silver in the dim light, as he waited for a reply.

"I was going to say this might mean more detention if we're caught, but to hell with that," Harry said in a rush, backing Draco up against his side of the cupboard and moving to unfasten his robes.

"I was hoping you would say that," Draco purred seductively, before closing his mouth over his, effectively shutting Harry up.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	14. Chapter 14

HARRY

There was really nothing else he would rather be doing than spending lunch with Draco Malfoy in a broom cupboard, Harry decided, as he knelt down in front of Draco in the very confined space.

The silence was broken only by their breathless gasps and Draco moaning incomprehensibly, gripping Harry's shoulders for support. When he was done, Draco slid to the floor, pulling Harry with him. They sat there, limbs tangled together, waiting for their breathing to slow down.

"I could get used to this," Harry mumbled after awhile, resting his head against Draco's chest, listening to the frantic heartbeat slow to a rhythmic throb.

"Which part?" Draco murmured against his ear, stroking his hair in an ungainly attempt to make it lie flat. "Making out with me or just me in general?" he asked, snickering slightly.

"Both, I guess," Harry whispered, pulling himself away from Draco's chest to press his lips to the hollow at the base of his neck. His gaze happened to wander down to Draco's wristwatch, and he yelped when he saw what time it was. "Bloody hell, Draco!" he moaned, "We're half an hour late for Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

When Draco made no move other than to snuggle closer to him, Harry pushed himself up from the floor. "We should get to class," he insisted, tugging at Draco's hand, who reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled up.

"Fine," Draco sighed, rearranging his own robes and surreptitiously smoothing them down. "But I don't get why you're so concerned about lessons, Harry," he griped, running a hand through his silver-blonde hair.

"I need to be qualified in more than one subject if I'm to have any hope of becoming an Auror at all," Harry told him, fixing his own robes into a more presentable fashion.

Draco sniffed disdainfully at his career choice, and made no effort to reply. Pressing an ear to the door of the broom cupboard, he listened for some time, before saying, "I don't think there's anyone out there."

"Good," said Harry, pushing open the door and stepping out. Draco slipped out behind him and eased the door shut with a barely audible click.

"Now do we go in to class together, and make it publicly known we were off dealing with our 'unusual sexual proclivities', or do we go in separately and avoid unwanted suspicion?" Draco asked him sardonically, the corners of his lips curving into a cynical smile.

"Go in together, of course," Harry replied just as sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Draco. "So do you want to go in first, or shall I?"

"Oh, I'll go first," said Draco, still grinning, "I'd love to see the look on your face when Snape deducts fifty or more points from Gryffindor." And with that he strode off down the corridor to the DADA classroom, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Harry as he went.

Harry gave him ten minutes before dashing at full speed to the classroom, panting hard to give the impression that he'd been running for a long time. "Sorry, Professor," he gasped, clutching at a pretend stitch in his side, "I had to use the bathroom, I wasn't feeling well."

Snape appraised him coldly, before giving him the look of loathing he always reserved just for Harry. "Is that so?" he said, sneering, "Arrogance and irresponsibility were always rather unfortunate traits of yours, Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

Draco and the rest of the Slytherins sniggered heartily, though not before Harry caught the rather apologetic look Draco shot him. He slid into a seat between Ron and Hermione, who both looked at him rather questioningly.

In response, he grimaced and whispered, "Draco."

"Oh," Hermione said, the expression on her face suggesting that she might puke.

Ron had turned a light shade of green as he said, "You just put mental images in my mind that I could have lived without, Harry."

Harry shrugged as he turned his attention to Snape, who was explaining in explicit detail the effects of a vampire's bite.

"…when bitten by a vampire, the victim will be in immense pain, as the venom in the vampire's fangs dominates its blood cells and changes the victim into a vampire. A newly blooded vampire will have all the traits of old ones. They will have pale skin, dark shadows under their eyes, the ability to see in the dark and a craving for blood."

"Professor Snape, sir?" Seamus interrupted, raising a hand into the air, "I thought vampires had the ability to sparkle in sunlight?"

Snape scowled very heavily at him. "Don't be foolish, Finnigan!" he snapped, clearly annoyed, "You are possibly the hundredth student who has asked me this question ever since I started the module on vampires!" Here he paused, his cold black eyes sweeping across the sea of upturned faces. "I will say it for the last time – vampires do not sparkle. They cannot withstand direct contact in sunlight, and will most certainly burn up within an hour."

"But Professor –!" Dean protested, his hand punching the air, "I thought it had been proved by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that –"

Snape cut him off, "Listen, you thick-headed bunch of misfits!" he hissed, glaring at Dean, "The Department proved nothing, that was merely a rumor. Whatever you've heard about a vampire sparkling in sunlight is wrong, do you hear? All of you will kindly refrain from asking me that question ever again! Where do you all pick this rubbish up anyway?" he said, giving them a look that suggested they had all personally wronged him.

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Please, Professor Snape," she said imploringly, "It was in a Muggle book series named _Twilight_. Its synopsis is of a teenage girl who meets a hundred year old vampire at school and falls hopelessly in love with him. The vampire claims to love her and doesn't want to hurt her, so he leaves. The heartbroken girl meets a werewolf and befriends him. Then the vampire and the girl reunite, only the girl now finds herself torn between the vampire and the werewolf. In the end she chooses the vampire, they get married, have a half-human, half-vampire hybrid daughter, and live happily ever after for eternity." This was all said rather fast, and Harry marveled at her ability to memorize even insignificant things such as this.

For the first time since Harry had known him, Snape looked dumbstruck and speechless. He gaped at Hermione for awhile, before regaining control of his composure. Smoothing his face into a mask, Snape arched an eyebrow at her. "In that case, Miss Granger, I shall award ten points to Gryffindor," he said smoothly.

The dumbfounded class stared at him, momentarily thrown. Snape _never_ awarded Gryffindor points. Sure, it was only ten points, but this was _Snape_. He only ever took points from Gryffindor, he never gave them points.

Hermione was the first to react to this unnerving statement. "Professor, are you – are you alright?" she asked, slightly anxiously. The class waited with bated breath for Snape to realize what he'd just said and deduct a further fifty points from Gryffindor.

"Certainly I am fine," he said, regarding her coolly. "Miss Granger has just told me what the problem with every single student is. They have all been reading garbage like those _Twilight_ books. I shall speak to the Headmaster and impose a rule to further ban the books in question from students, so that their brains shall remain untainted and un-addled. I can now be positive that it was not due to my teaching methods that was giving my students all the wrong ideas. Thank you, Miss Granger, you have been a great help to me and the school's curriculum."

Shocked silence met this unexpected pronouncement. Then the class began clapping and whooping, cheering Hermione, who had blushed a deep shade of pink. Even the corners of Snape's mouth had quirked upwards every so slightly as he inclined his head towards Hermione in acknowledgement.

The bell rang just then, and as everyone started packing and hurrying to the door, Snape called, "Your homework for today will be to stay away from those dreadful _Twilight_ books that might have a negative impact on your inept minds for the rest of your lives!" Scattered applause rang out, and Snape waved it down, looking rather surprised and nonplussed.

"That was the best lesson with Snape ever!" Harry exclaimed, once they were in the hallway. "Who knew Hermione's memorizing would one day save us all from the wrath of Severus Snape?"

"I might actually dislike him instead of hate him," Ron agreed, grinning. "Sparkling vampires, eh?" he asked, smirking at Seamus.

"My mam likes to read _Twilight_!" he said, looking rather embarrassed.

"Well, tell her to stop reading it then!" said Hermione, who still looked rather pleased with herself.

"Believe me, I've tried!" said Seamus, rolling his eyes. "But she's always fawning over the heartthrob who plays the vampire in the movie."

"What's a movie?" Ron asked curiously. "Is it a Muggle device?"

"Yeah, kind of," Seamus said, "But I don't really know much about them."

Hermione sighed and began explaining to Ron what exactly a movie was. "A film, also called a movie or motion picture, is a series of still or moving images…" Her voice faded away as she, Ron and Seamus headed back to the common room.

Harry shook his head, wondering just how many things she had crammed inside her head. He was debating whether or not to head to the Quidditch pitch for some extra practice when a voice whispered in his ear, "Interesting lesson, huh?"

Draco's breath was cool and tickled his ear as he grabbed Harry's hand and began pulling him down the corridor. "Yeah, interesting," said Harry, not knowing what he was saying as he concentrated on Draco's hand holding his.

They came to an abrupt stop. Glancing around, Harry was dimly aware of the fact that they were in a tiny alcove, concealed behind a suit of armor. Before he could ask Draco what they were doing there, a warm mouth closed over his own, and a velvet tongue flicked over his lips, demanding entrance. He succumbed willingly, opening his mouth, their tongues meeting as they moaned into each other's mouths.

His world was suddenly a haze of pleasure, as he and Draco both fought for dominance with their tongues, trying to outdo the other. Eventually Harry gave up and let Draco take control, sliding his hands up to clutch at his blonde silken hair, while Draco caressed his face fondly and slid his hands down to his neck.

Breaking the kiss, Draco dipped his head to Harry's neck, running a soft, wet tongue over the exposed skin, before lifting his mouth to say teasingly, "Do you believe in sparkling vampires, Harry?"

"N – No," Harry said breathlessly, "Why would I?"

"Oh, no reason," Draco said airily, tracing a vein on the side of Harry's throat as he did so. "Would you believe me if I told you _I_ were a vampire?"

"Probably not," he replied, feeling dazed and confused. "Why, are you a vampire, then?" he asked Draco worriedly.

"Mm, yes, very much so," said Draco solemnly, nicking his neck with his teeth as Harry's breath caught. "I happen to be newly blooded, and I particularly enjoy feasting on dazed, unsuspecting victims."

"Wh – what?" Harry mumbled incoherently, feeling tipsy all of a sudden. "D – Don't bite me!" he managed to gasp.

Draco laughed against Harry's neck then, jolting Harry out of his dizzy state. "Well, that was fun," he chortled, straightening up and giving him a light kiss.

"What was fun?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at the apparent amusement on Draco's face.

"Pretending to be a bloodsucker and scaring you," Draco said, who looked like he was suppressing the urge to smirk.

"You – you –" Harry's furious tirade was cut off as Draco crashed his lips against his own, dispelling any protest he might have made. The kiss grew violent rather quickly, and soon Harry had shoved Draco against the wall, hands working deftly on the intricate fastenings of his designer robes. Draco had done a neat job on Harry's robes as well, which were then flung unceremoniously away.

Draco moaned when Harry fastened his teeth to his pale neck and began trailing his hands over his chest, moving hungrily and aggressively. Harry had to suppress a whimper from the back of his throat when Draco knelt and his mouth engulfed him. All he knew and cared about was his silver-blonde hair glinting as he worked, running his hot, wet tongue over him, sending delicious shivers through his body. Harry dug his nails into the blonde's shoulder as he shuddered and came, letting out a whimper loud enough to alert any passersby of their presence, though he found he didn't care.

"We should really keep it down, Harry," Draco chided gently, when they were both robed and cleaned. "We never know who might be passing by."

"I didn't see you being all that secretive at lunch," Harry reminded him, grinning at the look on Draco's face.

"I would say I was quite inconspicuous, thank you very much," said Draco, tilting his chin arrogantly and lifting his nose in the air.

"Mm, yes, _very_ inconspicuous," Harry teased, leaning back against Draco and playing with a lock of his hair.

"Ah, well, we'll cast Imperturbable Charms next time, shall we?" Draco amended, giving in.

"Sounds great," Harry replied, feeling very content and sleepy.

"We should get you to bed," said Draco, looking him over concernedly.

"Okay," he said, perking up considerably.

"No, Harry," said Draco gently, "You sounded all too eager. I'm sleeping _beside_ you, not _with _you. You look half-dead on your feet."

"I'm fine," he said, leaping to his feet to demonstrate his point. As if determined to prove him wrong, he felt himself sway gracelessly before toppling back down on top of Draco.

"I think you just need some sleep," Draco said coaxingly, smoothing his hair back from his forehead and tracing his scar with one long, aristocratic finger lightly. "You're not used to lack of sleep, and I haven't been helping either, crawling into your bed every night," he added with a smirk.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, and allowed himself to be led out of the alcove all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Draco pulling Harry along, but said nothing as she swung forward to admit them. Harry directed Draco to the sixth year dormitories (as though he needed directing, he came over almost every night) and they flopped down on his bed together, Draco twitching the crimson hangings shut and enveloping them in semi-darkness.

Snuggling closer to Draco, Harry closed his eyes and felt himself fall asleep almost instantly.

DRACO

Not long after wrapping his arms around Harry's sleeping form and listening to his even breathing, Draco felt himself drifting off…

_"Should you fail to murder Dumbledore, you and your family shall face Lord Voldemort's wrath," the high, cold voice of the Dark Lord said, as he branded Draco with the Dark Mark._

_ The scene shifted, and Draco was kissing Harry, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months, as their mouths meshed perfectly, their tongues tasting the other –_

_ Harry was roughly yanked away, and Draco found himself on the edge of a cliff, Dumbledore standing in front of him, backing him towards the deep, dark abyss that spiraled down into black nothingness._

_ "You have no choice, Draco," Dumbledore said gently, reaching out a consoling hand to him. "You either kill me or commit yourself to death."_

_ As Draco shook to keep his wand hand steady, Dumbledore's blackened, withered hand found his shoulder as the old man patted Draco in comfort, and Draco felt his defenses slipping._

_ Letting his wand drop a fraction, he tried to think what he should do. Then, without warning, Dumbledore gripped his shoulder in an iron hold and shoved him off the edge of the cliff._

_ As he fell, the wind whistling past his ears, Draco thought oddly of flying, and the cool brush of the wind in his hair, the sense of freedom at his fingertips. Draco didn't even have time to scream as he saw the ground rush up to meet him._

_ Abruptly he felt his fall slow, and he was lowered gently to the ground. Draco found himself in a graveyard, with the Dark Lord standing over his parents and Harry. The Dark Lord raised his wand, his scarlet pupils dilating with cruel amusement._

_ "CRUCIO!" His father screamed and crumpled, shouting senseless pleas that were ignored by the Dark Lord. "CRUCIO!" An agonized shriek came from his mother as she fell to the ground, begging the Dark Lord for mercy. "CRUCIO!" Harry yelled as he dropped to the floor, shaking and twitching._

_ "NO!" Draco heard himself shout, as he broke free of the Body-Bind Curse the Dark Lord had on him and flung himself protectively in front of Harry and his parents, facing the wand the Dark Lord aimed at him._

_ "Avada Kedavra," said the high, cold voice, as Draco closed his eyes and saw the green burst of light through his closed eyelids._

"Draco! _Draco!_" He opened his eyes. Harry was shaking him, the face hovering over his own uncertain and worried.

"Wh – What?" Draco rasped, his throat dry, as he lifted himself up on his elbows. It was then that he noticed he was drenched in cold sweat, and that he was trembling.

"You were having a nightmare," said Harry softly, peering rather blearily at Draco (he didn't have his glasses on). "You were thrashing about and yelling for your parents, Dumbledore and – and me," he said, sounding rather unsure.

"_Dumbledore?_" Draco asked incredulously, voice still hoarse from yelling in his sleep. "Why would I be calling for _him_?"

"I dunno," said Harry, frowning down at him, "Depends on what nightmare you were having, I guess. What did you dream about?"

"I – I –" Draco struggled to recall his dream, dredging something up about flying. Suddenly he remembered the nightmare in every explicit detail, and he blanched, causing Harry to ram his glasses on and eye him concernedly.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked hesitantly, reaching to pat his back.

Memories of Dumbledore reaching out to him in this very same gesture and then sending him flying off the edge of a cliff came flooding back, and with a strangled cry Draco scooted out of Harry's reach.

"Draco?" Harry said tentatively, hand still stretched towards him.

"I – I'm fine, Harry," he gasped, trying to slow his rapid breathing. "It – It was just a nightmare." He then proceeded to fluff up the pillows and lie back down.

Still looking unconvinced, Harry took off his glasses and reclined next to him, absently tracing the veins on Draco's arm. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did you dream about?" Harry murmured softly against Draco's ear.

"It was nothing," he replied hastily, skirting the question. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he added, in an effort to change the subject.

"It was nothing," Harry said, in repetition of his own words, "But now I'm awake, I can't seem to go back to sleep. It might help if you told me what your dream was…" he trailed off, glancing hopefully at him.

"I don't see how my telling you about my nightmare making it easier for you to fall asleep," Draco pointed out reasonably, giving Harry a wicked grin.

"Well, would you at least tell me how Dumbledore came to be in your dream?" Harry asked instead, and Draco noticeably tensed, his muscles tautening.

"You probably heard wrong, I must have said Rumbleroar, not Dumbledore," said Draco, making use of his imagination.

"Rumbleroar?" Harry said, and Draco could practically sense his brow furrowing, even though it was impossible to tell in the dim lighting.

"Yes, Rumbleroar," he clarified, "He's the headmaster lion who can talk at Pigfarts, the wizarding school on the planet Mars," said Draco, inventing wildly.

"There's a wizarding school on _Mars_?" Harry asked, the incredulity in his voice plain as he twisted around to stare at Draco.

"Oh, yes, certainly," he replied, the lie coming easily to his lips, "But unfortunately, a lot of people in the British wizarding community refuse to acknowledge its existence, even though there have been countless evidences to support the case."

"So let me get this straight," said Harry, "You believe in some crackpot old wives' tale about a school on Mars that many have denied is true?"

"Exactly," said Draco smugly, inwardly congratulating himself on coming up with something so brilliant. "But not many have heard of this tale, and those who have don't quite believe it."

"I can see why," Harry said, sounding like he was suppressing the urge to laugh. "So, this Rumbleroar would be something like Aslan, wouldn't he?"

"Who?" asked Draco, racking his mind for the unfamiliar name.

"Aslan, you know, the talking lion in _Narnia_?" said Harry, who was still shaking with silent laughter.

"Actually, no, I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco replied, brushing Harry's forehead experimentally to check if he was sick.

"I'm not _sick_, Draco," Harry complained, catching his hand and bringing it down from his forehead. "It's a Muggle book series that's quite popular."

"Oh, okay," he said, wondering vaguely whether all Muggle books were this atrocious, "Sounds interesting."

"Were you having a nightmare about Pigfarts then?" Harry asked into the sudden silence, broken only by their steady breathing.

"As a matter of fact, yes," stalled Draco, frantically trying to come up with an idea, "I was in detention at Pigfarts. They have a particularly cruel form of punishment, they force students to wander about in space without any means of magic, and I was suffocating from the lack of oxygen in the dream."

"Um, right," Harry said, and it was his turn to press the back of his hand against Draco's forehead for a burning fever.

"I'm fine, Potter!" Draco snapped, pushing his hand away and turning his back to Harry.

"Okay, okay," said Harry, giving in, "Just checking to be sure."

"I forgive you," said Draco regally, with a superior tone, earning him a sharp dig in the side from Harry, which he returned.

They lay in companionable silence for awhile, before Harry spoke. "Draco? Are you asleep?"

"No," he whispered back, "Why?"

"I can't sleep," Harry admitted ruefully, turning to look at him.

"And?"

"Can you distract me?"

"What kind of distraction do you want?"

"Does shagging count as a form of distraction?"

"Hell yes."

No more words were said for quite some time after that.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	15. Chapter 15

HARRY

Opening his eyes to quasi-darkness, Harry sat up and tried to figure out why he felt two conflicting emotions warring with each other in his chest: ecstasy and misery. A sleepy yawn came from beside him, and Harry turned to find Draco stretching languidly, his platinum silken hair immaculately mussed.

Memories of last night came flooding back, them going to bed, Draco having a nightmare, and the 'distraction' Draco had provided after they both couldn't get back to sleep. That explained the ecstasy Harry felt, then.

A slim wrist encircled his, and Harry was dragged back down onto his pillows. "No one should get up at this unseemly hour, Harry," Draco muttered, burying his head further into his pillow.

Harry smirked to himself. If there was one thing he'd learnt about Draco, it was that he was most definitely not a morning person. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off to sleep once more when a cold draft rushed in.

His eyes flew open to find a gagging Ron standing beside his bed, having wrenched the hangings of his four-poster back. What a sight they must have made, the covers crumpled and messy, Draco sleeping obliviously beside him, and him scrabbling frantically for the sheets, yanking them over the two of them.

Apparently the disruption woke Draco, for he cracked open one eye and directed a baleful glare at Harry. "Stop waking me up, Potter! This is the sec –" his tirade cut off abruptly as he opened his eyes fully to find Ron standing like a puppet, looking like he was going to be sick.

"Morning, Weasley," he said stiffly to Ron, "Next time could you kindly wake Harry in a way that would not wake me as well? Thank you." With that he shut his eyes once more, draped his leg over Harry's thigh and appeared to doze off at once.

Ron was still gaping at Harry's bedside, looking like a puppet without a puppeteer, and he was pointedly averting his eyes from the bed. Harry realized with a jolt that he should probably put something on, for the sake of courtesy, if not for Ron's good health, as he looked ready to throw up any second.

"I'll be a moment, Ron," he told the redhead, before twitching the hangings shut around them once more.

He gently shook Draco awake, earning himself another reproachful glower from the blonde. When the two of them were presentable, Harry pushed back the hangings to find Ron still in the same spot, fiddling nervously with his hands.

"Alright, Harry?" he asked by way of greeting, as Harry clambered awkwardly out of bed, and Draco slid off gracefully.

Draco snorted derisively, and rolled his eyes at Ron's indiscretion. "Honestly, Weasel, haven't you any tact? You've only just walked in on your best mate in bed with his boyfriend, and you say 'Alright, Harry?'"

Harry attempted to conceal his smirk, but was only half successful. Draco flashed him a playfully devilish grin, said, "See you in detention, Harry." before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room.

Detention. With Snape. Today. All of a sudden it clicked; his contradictory emotions and the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something important. Harry groaned to himself. Why did Snape have to be such a git?

At that moment Neville, Dean, and Seamus swept past on their way to breakfast down in the Great Hall. "Should probably set up Silencing Charms next time, Harry," Dean said, waggling his eyebrows, as Seamus did an impression of a throaty moan and dodged the punch Harry sent his way.

The other Gryffindor sixth-years left the room, leaving Ron and Harry alone. "Er-" Ron said uneasily into the silence, glancing shiftily at Harry, unable to meet his eyes. "Er…"

"What, Ron?" Harry asked irritably, slightly peeved that his best friend should be behaving this apprehensively in his presence.

"I know I've never told you this before, Harry," Ron began, looking down at his feet, "But I have – er – a kind of problem with the fact that you like – like doing – uh – you know, with a – a bloke." He shoved his hands into his pocket as his ears reddened perceptibly.

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ron looked up, evidently surprised. "I just assumed – I dunno, I assumed you would mind and yell at me."

Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. "Ron, that's ridiculous. Why would I mind? If you've got a problem with this, you should've told me, and Draco and I would've – well, we would still have done stuff, just not to your face."

Ron visibly exhaled as he let out a chortle. "I was an idiot, wasn't I? I'll be sure to let you know next time you two are disgusting me."

Still chuckling, the pair of them headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

DRACO

"…velvet green or bottle-green to match the fur-lined cloak, Draco?"

He looked up to find Pansy gazing expectantly at him, and tried recalling the question. It had had something to do with clothes… "Velvet green would be perfect, Pans," he said smoothly, arranging his face into an amused expression.

"That just proves my point that you weren't listening to a word I was saying," Pansy huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "I asked you whether or not you were listening to what I said about the Death Eater activities in London, and added the clothes innuendo to see if you were."

"Fine, you got me, happy?" he asked her, arching one eyebrow cynically as he gave her his best yes-I-know-I'm-wrong-but-I'm-always-right-so-don't-you-dare- contradict-me look.

Pansy attempted to stare him down and failed. "Now will you listen?" she asked instead, laying the _Daily Prophet_ out on the table, with the words tilted towards him.

_**Second Mass Breakout in Azkaban: Death Eater Sightings Frequent**_

_Following the ascension of the Dark Lord, otherwise known as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there have been two mass breakouts in Azkaban, one of which occurred last year and the other just yesterday. The previous guards of the wizard prison, the Dementors, are said to be responsible for this second mass breakout, which is no surprise, given that they deserted the Ministry and rejoined the Dark Lord as of last year._

_Following the disappearances of Garrick Ollivander, Maggie Gravelly, and Florean Fortescue last summer, there have also been various sightings of Death Eaters in London more than any part of Britain, along with destruction wherever they happen to go. The mass breakout yesterday caused pandemonium, inciting fear and terror everywhere._

"_We're doing our best to cope with the aftermath of the breakout," one extremely harassed-looking Ministry official said yesterday, "But at this stage I'm afraid there's really not much we can do. At this rate, there will be more empty cells in Azkaban than occupied ones!"_

"_I do not think the Ministry is incompetent," Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, said in response to public-raised questions. "It was not due to ineptness on our part that caused the Dementors to rejoin the Dark Side, but rest assured, I will do everything within my ability to recapture the escapees. _

_Anyone who has knowledge of their whereabouts should step forward, and you shall be rewarded greatly. These are dark times, and everyone who does not wish to be harmed should do well to stay indoors until further notice of Death Eater activities."_

_The second mass breakout was on an even larger scale than the first, with a total of twenty escapees, including those that were re-imprisoned prior to the initial Azkaban breakout last year. Among them are Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Lucius Malfoy –_

The newspaper fluttered out of Draco's slack grip as he attempted to compose his face into a mask of indifference, to seem as if he couldn't care more or less whether his father was out of prison or not.

In truth, he wasn't sure how he felt about that himself. On the one hand, he was insanely glad that his father did not have to endure the torment of being in jail any longer. On the other, it meant that he was about as safe away from Azkaban as he was in it. Draco knew full well what exactly the Dark Lord planned on doing to him and his family should he fail to complete his task, and his father being out of prison only made him more exposed to the potential wrath of the Dark Lord.

"Draco," Pansy began in a low, soothing voice, placing her hand lightly on top of his. He looked up at her concerned expression, her face no longer pug-like as it had been a few years back, but feminine and refined, and did his best to stifle his overlapping emotions for the moment.

"Hm?" he asked nonchalantly, regarding the paper with a dismissive air, as though such mundane matters were beneath him.

By the look Pansy gave him, he knew he hadn't fooled her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said wearily, "Look, Pans, I'm just worried for my father. The Dark Lord won't be forgiving towards him, not after what happened at the Department of Mysteries last summer."

She nodded, looking thoughtful, before saying, "Have you ever considered switching sides?"

Draco, who had been calmly sipping from his goblet, barely managed not to spew pumpkin juice all over the table. Dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, he attempted to collect himself. "Why would I?" he countered, taking another measured sip of juice.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't know what you're up to," Pansy began in a noticeably lower tone, "Your family is in disgrace in the Dark Lord's eyes, and however faithful your dad is to him, you have no reason to be, unless the Dark Lord had threatened you with your family, of course."

He felt the color draining from his face and his composure slipping. Since when had Pansy grown this smart? She wasn't supposed to know anything about his task or the Dark Lord's threat regarding his parents. "What are you on about, Parkinson?" he hissed furiously, controlling his urge to panic and run, so he wouldn't have to deal with this.

It was Pansy's turn to give him a sardonic smirk and lift one elegant eyebrow. "Bringing on the last names now, are you? You only do that when I've touched a nerve or hit too close to home." Abruptly she disappeared under the table, only to resurface on his side of the table, where she had crawled to in an undignified and plebeian manner.

"So what's the matter with you? Why won't you switch sides when your side is under the rule of a lunatic hell-bent on killing and destroying?" she prodded, scooting to sit beside him, "Are you just worried for the good name of your family in the Dark Lord's eyes, or are you worried for your parents' lives?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line and clenched his fists under the table, glaring straight ahead. "It's none of your business, Pansy," he said quietly, still looking anywhere but at her. "And since when did you and your family switch sides?"

"Yes – Yesterday," she mumbled, and it was her turn to look away as she pushed the news article he'd abandoned towards him. A small piece in the corner caught his eye, its headline seeming to blare at him.

_**Death Eater Found Dead: Scrimegeour Reassures Public**_

_The mass breakout in Azkaban yesterday caused panic to sweep across the nation. But it seems the public are not the only ones threatened. Two hours after the Ministry had restored control over the prison, former Death Eater Hadrian Parkinson was found dead in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

_Parkinson had been in St. Mungo's ever since the first reign of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, due to an injury that had made him mentally disordered for the rest of his life. Yesterday his body was found in bed, with no signs of change in his physical health._

_ The only explanation Healers could give was the use of the Killing Curse on him, seeing as his health was in perfect condition and there was absolutely no sign of threat anywhere._

Draco stopped reading and looked up, his heart going cold. He instinctively reached out an arm and drew Pansy closer, and as she buried her head into his shoulder, he could feel her trembling with the effort of suppressing her sobs.

"Oh, Pans," he murmured, pressing a light kiss on the top of her head and running his hand through her hair gently. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for the way he'd behaved toward her just now or for the death of her father. Maybe it was both.

They sat there for a long time, his arms around her, until the Hall emptied as students went off to their various lessons, and Pansy's wracking sobs turned into dry hiccoughs.

She pushed her hair back from her eyes as she straightened up, her eyes red and puffy. "Draco, I – I just, don't want you hurt like I – like I've been," she whispered brokenly, "Promise me you won't let them hurt you."

He looked into her tear-filled eyes, full of despair and anguish, but also burning with determination and resolve. It was worry for him that held her together, he realized. Worry that he should get hurt by the Dark Lord and his followers as she herself had been. Worry that his family would be the next one torn apart, that his heart would be the next one broken.

But he couldn't turn his back on the Dark Lord, he couldn't switch sides. His mother and father's lives were on the line here, and the Dark Lord knew full well that he would rather die trying to kill Dumbledore than sit back and watch his parents be killed, because if there was one thing pureblood wizarding families valued, it was the respect and love between parents and children.

So there was no way out. His father had chosen the wrong path when he decided to follow the Dark Lord in his first reign of power, and he had paid for it in Azkaban. His mother had only become a Death Eater because his father had 'persuaded' her, it hadn't really been by her choice. He himself had sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord to keep his parents alive, so what did that make him?

Had he chosen the wrong path like his father, if the reason he did was so he could save his parents? Was there a chance he would be able to set everything right again, to make right all the choices he'd made wrong? Would he be accepted back into society ever again, if he failed or succeeded to kill Dumbledore?

Did he actually want to be on the Dark Side in the war, when the Dark Lord could offer promise protection for his parents, while the Ministry might not be so forgiving? Or did he want to be on Harry's side, to fight alongside him, to fight against the Dark Lord? Would he be able to defy everything he had been taught his whole life, and snuff out the only way he and his parents could be saved by rebelling against the Dark Lord?

And the question that knackered him most, the one he had consistently attempted to avoid thinking about: What would his choice be if he were to choose between Harry and his parents? Sure, he liked Harry, but that didn't necessarily qualify as anything as serious as love, did it? He was a teenager, surely this was just a rather huge crush? He wasn't even sure why he had factored Harry into the equation.

_Maybe because the two of you are shagging daily, _a snide voice said from inside his head, _You claim it's just a major liking, but is that really how you feel about him?_ Draco wisely told the voice to shut up, because he felt stretched to the point of breaking. He was positive he would be able to choose loyalty and duty to his parents and family name over this…whatever this thing with Harry was.

_Will you really be able to do that? Will you really be able to do the right thing in the end and stand by your parents and the Dark Lord, even fight Harry if you have to? _The voice in him asked, seeming to appeal to his doubtful nature.

So many questions, all of them unanswered, swirled around in his head, until he felt like he would burst from it all. He steadied himself, focusing on the one coherent though resonating in his head, on the one path he could take that could ensure his parents' safety. Repair the Cabinet, let the Death Eaters in to wreck havoc, and kill Dumbledore.

_Kill Dumbledore. _The thought bounced eerily around in his mind, strangely detached, as though he were no longer in control of himself. He should have felt terror and guilt when he thought of murdering the Mudblood-loving old fool, but all he felt was a foreign emptiness, reverberating and echoing, until he felt devoid of any emotion.

He smoothed his face into what he hoped was a reassuring expression. "I'll talk to my father about it," he offered pensively, "Maybe he will consider switching sides after all. He does have some sense."

Pansy nodded, looking visibly relieved, looked around and said in a startled tone, "We're late for class, Draco!"

A quick glance around the Hall showed him it was nearly empty, save for a few seventh years with plenty of time to kill in their free periods. He left his breakfast relatively untouched and stood, pulling Pansy up with him. They left the Hall at a sprint and only arrived ten minutes late into Potions.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson," Slughorn exclaimed, beaming genially at them from behind his desk. "Do remember to turn up punctually next time, we've just started!" Apparently he had recovered from whatever had kept him from teaching for the past few weeks, and was back to teaching them Potions. That would mean one less class they had with Snape, then.

Draco and Pansy slid into their usual seats, and he flipped his book to the correct page and immersed himself in the intricacies of dissecting newts' eyes, chopping up salamander tails and skinning Shrivelfigs.

HARRY

"Sorry I'm late, Professor,' he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side as he burst into Snape's office for his detention. Draco was standing off to one side, his face impassive as he stared woodenly ahead.

"It would seem your incompetent manner at turning up on time has nothing whatsoever to do with any kind of sexual interaction between yourself and Mr Malfoy, Potter," Snape intoned dryly, then sneered in grim satisfaction as Harry felt his face heat up.

"I had – I had Quidditch practice. Sir." He added in an attempt to sound polite.

"Of course, I could never expect anything less from the Boy Hero," Snape said wryly, "You have always been a self-centered, arrogant brat who refuses to stoop so low as to cut short your recreational time, even to show up on time for class or detention!" Snape's voice had gone dangerously soft, and Harry decided it would be best if he kept his mouth shut.

After a while Snape looked away. "Your detention today will be to help Mr Filch polish the trophies in the trophy room. You will not stop until you have finished polishing every single one and you will not use magic." His lip curled slightly as he added, "I believe there are several hundred that need polishing."

With that he dismissed them to the trophy room with a wave of his hand, turning back to grading a stack of essays on his desk. Harry and Draco ascended wordlessly to the trophy room, where Filch was waiting with an unpleasant grin, as he gestured at the pile of trophies that needed polishing.

Harry barely kept his mouth from dropping open in horror. Trophies, shields, badges, medals of every size and shape balanced precariously on shelves too small for them, a huge towering mass of unpolished silver looming up to the ceiling.

Filch gave them a last leer before heading out, with Mrs Norris trailing after him at his heels. "This is going to take forever," he groaned, grabbing a shield and starting to polish. Beside him, Draco nodded mutely, before hefting a trophy into his hands and swiping a cloth idly over it, looking distracted.

For the next few hours the two of them polished at a robotic pace, though they didn't seem to be making any progress. Sometimes they had a good laugh over the ludicrous awards students had been given.

"Look at this," said Draco in amusement, tilting the plaque he was holding towards Harry. "'Awarded to Gilderoy Lockhart for best kept toenails in a century', this is ridiculous. If any award were to be given for perfect nails, it should be to me."

Harry gave a barely contained snort. "You think too highly of yourself, Draco." That earned him a dig in the ribs, a favor which he returned.

When they were down to an amount where Harry could actually tell the stack of awards had dwindled, Draco let out a small noise of surprise. "Look," he said, tapping the shield he was polishing. There it read in elegant but bold script:

**This is hereby awarded to**

** Maggie Gravelly**

** For the best brewed potions in the academic year**

"What about this?" he asked, frowning down at the unfamiliar name.

"Nothing, it's just – she was one of the people reported missing,"

"Oh, right, it was mentioned in the papers, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think this means?"

"What do you mean by 'this'?"

"The disappearances, the Death Eater attacks…What do you think he's – Voldemort's planning?"

Harry ignored the way Draco's shoulders tensed and stiffened noticeably at the name, and concentrated on polishing his plaque. The silence stretched so long Harry was sure there would be not reply to his question, when Draco said softly, "I wish I knew, Harry, I wish I knew."

Harry barely refrained himself from asking, 'Are you sure you don't know? You and your family are in league with Voldemort, you know.'

He knew he shouldn't be feeling this, doubt and suspicion and wariness, towards Draco. But the fact remained that he had no idea where Draco's loyalties lay, whether they were to Voldemort or Dumbledore, or neither. It pained him to know he could sleep with someone whom he did not trust, and he pondered when he had sunk so low as to be doing such a thing.

He had no idea what had made him decide to get back together with Draco that day in the changing rooms, he hadn't expected Draco to, not after what he'd done to him, not after almost killing him. He himself still harbored doubts about Draco. Perhaps it had been the longing to feel wanted, to feel…loved, that had pushed him to forgive Draco, and Draco had given in with reasons unknown to Harry.

But since he had made this choice, it would only be fitting to follow it through, and let it take its natural course. Besides, they certainly were benefits to their relationship, he conceded. Those benefits mainly consisted of some incredible shagging every night, which was fine by Harry.

"Are you done yet?" he asked after a while, leaning over Draco's shoulder to check on his progress.

"Just about," he replied, swiping his cloth with a flourish over a silver trophy.

"Hurry up, would you?" he asked impatiently, as he felt himself growing hard at the way Draco polished the slender handle of the trophy, caressing it gently with smooth strokes.

Draco arched an elegant eyebrow as his lips quirked upwards in a smirk. "That eager to get to bed, are you? It's not that late, Harry."

"I'm not talking about getting some sleep and you know it."

Draco's smirk widened into something feral and predatory, with his hair sleek and silver in the dim light, the curve of his figure prominent against the muted backdrop. He looked so perfect Harry had to strain not to thread his hand through the silken hair, pull Draco close and –

"If you're that impatient, we may as well," said Draco, a spark in his eyes, silver in the lighting of the room. With that he gave a casual flick of his wand and sent the remaining pile of trophies flying back to their respective shelves, polished and gleaming.

"I thought we weren't allowed –" Harry began, then stopped as he saw Draco cast a few complex spells on the magically polished trophies.

"That should mask the magic," Draco mused, stepping back and admiring his handiwork. "Now, are you going to bed or not?" he asked, leaning over and brushing their lips together lightly.

It wasn't exactly a kiss, but it was enough to get him hard all over again and want for more. Nodding wordlessly, he allowed himself to be led out of the trophy room down to the Slytherin dormitories for the night.

TO BE CONTINUED…


End file.
